


The Academy of Lore

by Hades_the_Blingking



Series: The Angel Academy Saga [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Mating, Angel University AU, BAMF Lucifer, BAMF Sam, BDSM, Bottom Sam, CONSENT all the way, Chains, Humour, Inappropriate Use of Grace, Lucifer is a kinky bitch, Lucifer is a problematic fav, Lucifer is up to something, M/M, Minor asphyxiation, Read the First Fic First, S&M, Sam's a virgin, Satan has a virgin kink, Satanic singing, Slow Burn, There may be angst, Top Lucifer, Whips, Wing Kink, Wingfic, and guess what, angel au, but elements of it, demon torture, grace fucking, hot satanic angel sex, i'm still probably going to hell for that tag, it is cuter than first intended, oh no, possible feelings may be felt by readers beware, sin - Freeform, so much sin, still extremely unashamed wingkink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 65,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hades_the_Blingking/pseuds/Hades_the_Blingking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong> Angel Academy AU. </strong><br/><strong>Read Part 1 First for world establishing </strong><br/>A peaceful year has passed since the Battle of the Hellgate. Sam has a comfortable life, great friends and is one of the top students in the Academy of Lore; the upcoming Archaeology Assignment is his only challenge. Then Sam partners up with one of the transfer angels, a beautiful, witty angel who seems to slot into his life like the perfect puzzle piece. He doesn't seem to realize just how the other angels react to this newcomer or just how far he is being led down the road of temptation.</p><p>Will Sam fall into the fire he is so afraid of, or will he recognize the true nature of his friend? Will the brothers survive what is to come and will their relationship hold strong? Meanwhile, sinister plans unfold in the shadows with a glint of red eyes and archangel wings. Lucifer has learned his lessons, and this time he knows he will not fail.</p><p> <br/>Comments are very much appreciated! Artwork is included c:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gold Wings

Sam sat at the raised desk in his Archaeology Class, back straight with excitement. Five hours ago, he and Bobbicus had begun to sift through the grizzled angel’s piles of mysterious flotsam and jetsam that had accumulated in his basement over the hundreds of thousands of years; even Bobbicus was unclear on what exactly was down there. To both of their surprise, they’d come across two shards of stone inscribed with odd letters and with it was a leger of some sort by the prophet Isiah. Among the ancient weapons and art, it shouldn’t have seemed like much, but there was something about those marks something about the _feel_ of it…the dark-haired angel tapped his desk in an excited rhythm. Maybe by the time he finished his classes, Bobbicus might have an idea what it was about – Hell, Sam was even tempted to go full rebel and ditch just to have an input.  
  
“All right nerds, settle down.” Eleanora, their lecturer, gave a warm smile and flicked a finger at the blank space on the wall. The words ‘Archaeology’ appeared in a bad WordArt curve while fireworks popped around it. “You know what time of day it is. But before we get started…”  
She turned and smiled at the open doorway. “Come in you lot, these kids don’t bite.”  
Eleanora smiled and Sam shared a glance with Kevin on his left as five angels trooped into the room. Over the hundreds of years they didn’t get many new angels at all in the Academy of Lore, so whenever some chose to switch from their previous Academy or line of work they were always introduced.  
“Hey, I’m Coledai.” A short (well, everyone was short to Sam) angel did a brief, tense wave. “The Academy of War didn’t work out that well for me, so here I am.”  
  
Sam eyed the angel with interest and wondered if Dean knew him; since the Hellgate battle a year ago, Dean seemed to know pretty much every angel in the Academy of War by name. Then again, every angel in the Academy of War seemed to know Dean’s name, and Sam had taken to needling his brother about when prayers to ‘the Mighty Warrior Angel Decanos’ would start pouring in from the humans. Another angel introduced themselves and took a spare seat, but not the one next to Sam. The new angels probably wanted to be at the front – Sam had to sit at the back or his classmates complained about not being able to see. Both Kevin and Jess had taken one for the team and joined him in his tall-person exile, even if Kevin barely came up to Sam’s shoulders and sometimes had to stand on the foot bar of the stool to get a good view. But Jess’s Academy of Exploration mother had taken her sightseeing in a different solar system because ‘even smart little angels like you need downtime’. Sam smiled at the memory of Jess’s face when she’d quoted that. But no, she was lucky – only Academy of Exploration angels got to leave the Solar System, and her mother had wheedled an exception out of it.  
  
Lost in his imaginings of what another galaxy would be like, Sam let his attention slide as another angel introduced themselves. He didn’t notice how a few angels shuffled with a discomfort they couldn’t place or found themselves looking down from the speaker’s stare without really knowing why. Sam glanced back up to the front and locked eyes with the gold-winged angel, and the blue-grey gaze seemed to lift himself out of the slouch he’d fallen back into. The newcomer was an odd sight; the first thing that struck Sam was that his clothes seemed to be like mud on a pearl. All angels had the ability to recognize beauty, and from a purely analytical viewpoint, this angel was incredibly beautiful. The shine of his golden wings seemed to make the classroom dim, and turned his long, pale blonde hair, which had been contained in a low ponytail, gold as well. Then Sam realized he’d held eye contact long enough for it to be taken as a dominance display and looked away. He wasn’t going to do an (old) Dean and intimidate newbies, even if unintentionally.  
  
“Heya.”  
Sam’s head snapped around in surprise, and his age-old warrior instinct almost had him whip out the angel-knife strapped to his calf. The new angel’s deep-set eyes flicked up and down him with a small smirk and his golden feathers rustled as he settled beside Sam.  
“What’s your name?” He murmured under the next introduction.  
“Uhm, Samuel, but call me Sam.” The tall angel nodded and suddenly noted with chagrin that his lack of attention had left this angel nameless. “You? Sorry, I kinda checked out for a moment during the intros.”  
The blonde angel lifted his eyebrows as though surprised, but settled back into his comfortable smirk. “Name’s Nikoleia, but don’t worry about saying it, never mind spelling it. Just go with Nick.”  
The name seemed way to bland for the angel, but Sam nodded.  
“Whoever made up the rule that angel names had to be long and complicated was a sadist.” Nick commented and his lips curved up. “I mean, I suppose we all have to be unique, but what’d be more unique than an angel called Sid.”  
Sam gave a snort. “Yeah, it’s like Kevin here – or Kevinannostran.”  
He gestured at the black-haired angel on his right, who gave a small smile and nodded.  
“Ooh, that’s harsh.” Nick’s voice took on a teasing edge and Sam grinned as a trickle of warm happiness ran through him.  
“Where’d you fly in from anyway?” Sam couldn’t help but glance back at Nick’s bright wings and the other angel gave them a smug shuffle.  
“A hundred year field trip from the Academy of Humanity.” Nick bared his teeth in disgust. “Ugh, one hundred years on Earth will make you never even want to _look_ at a human again, never mind study them. So here I am.”  
  
He finished the sentence with a perky little smile as Sam gave a huff of disbelief through his grin.  
“You know we’re meant to do the whole ‘love humanity’ thing, right?”  
Nick raised his eyebrows and fixed him with a coy glance. “You try loving humanity when you’ve seen how many of them decide that shoving a creative and endless number of objects up their asses is a good idea.”  
Of all the things that might have come out of this beautiful, elegant angel’s mouth Sam could never have predicted that. His shoulders shook with disbelieving laughter as he tried to keep silent under the last angel’s introduction.  
“Seriously?” Sam finally managed out, eyebrows pretty much at his hairline, and turned to see Nick still watching him with a smirk.  
“You would not believe.” The blonde angel said in a very matter of fact kind of way. “Cameras, eels, every kind of vegetable you can imagine… I mean I’m all for sex toys, but being killed by the live eel that literally ate your ass is not what I’d want on my Heavenly death record.”  
He put a hand on his own chest to underpin his statement and Sam shook his head with a grin as he tried to keep the laughter down. Jeez, he’d known Nick for, what, two minutes now and felt as though they were already friends. That had to be some kind of record.  
He looked back at Nick’s ice-blue eyes with a grin. “Dude, you are actually great, you know that?”  
“Well I do try, Sam.” Those dirty-blonde eyebrows flicked and lazy eyes held his. For some reason, Sam felt as though he could look at this angel all day, but reminded himself that eyeballing a friend Michael-confrontation-style was not only weird, but also scary, even though Nick seemed to be the most chill, confident angel Sam had ever seen. He didn’t have Castiel’s straight-backed, coiled poise or the arrogant power-swagger of Raphael, but just had a kind of quiet conviction that almost tempted Sam to try and stare him out.  
  
“Y’know, I’ve been at this Academy for a good long while, so if you need anything or have trouble finding your way or just want someone to hang with, I’m happy to help.” Sam offered and glanced up at Eleanora as she began to conjure notes about theories and research around the lost Horn of Gabriel.  
“Mm, I’d love that Sam.” Nick shot him a cheeky smile and crossed his arms on the raised desk. “What’s your next lecture by the way?”  
“An Advanced Translation Lab.” A small glow of excitement reminded Sam that not only was his favourite class next, but also of Bobbicus and the shards they’d found.  
“What a coincidence.” Nick smirked, one eye on the tutor.  
“You too? I didn’t think they’d let a first-year into an Advanced Placement course.” Sam looked over at his new friend with newfound respect. This dude wasn’t only super-beautiful, but must be _seriously_ intelligent.  
“What can I say? I’m talented.” Nick shrugged and leaned towards the taller angel a little as he murmured the words. A little happy thrum warmed Sam as he smiled.  
“You like translation then?” That’d be super-cool if he found another friend who was really into it – Kevin loved translation, but had a whole group of buddies he often paired with in the class. Jess seemed to have taken it kinda because Sam was there, and although she was wonderful, she didn’t quite have the knack for it and often a lot of extra work was left up to Sam (which was probably why he was so good).  
“Oh, I love it. You don’t get good at something by disliking it.” Nick threw him a little wink.  
“Quiet at the back, Samuel! Don’t make me move you.” Eleanora called, but her tone was still warm. It took a lot to piss her off utterly. “Now, I’m going to conjure a dragons-blood sword for each table of four – or three in some cases. Your job is to remove it from the stone intact with proper archaeological techniques. Now, if any of you take Coding, don’t be cheats and decode the spell I’ve used, because that won’t help you in a real-life scenario. New students, watch and learn.”  
  
The table vanished and a boulder appeared between Kevin and Sam. From it protruded a thick, metal handle. Sam knew they both knew exactly what to do, so he went over to the stone and felt about for weak spots in the ‘magic’ that bound the rock and sword together. Nick swung his legs on the stool with his arms crossed as he watched them work with sharp eyes, but Sam had an odd feeling that the angel’s gaze rested on him more often than the puzzle.  
“Lift this up?” Kevin motioned at the stone. It wasn’t that the smaller angel wasn’t strong enough, it was just that Sam’s long arms could reach either side of the stone and heft it with greater ease.  
“Yeah sure, short stop.” Sam smirked and heaved the rock upwards.  
“You’ll be glad when you need someone to fly through a tight space.” Kevin checked for weak spots underneath the boulder and a soft, familiar tune caught Sam’s ears from behind him.  
“Hey, are you singing Stairway to Heaven?” Sam frowned in befuddlement at Nick, who broke off in surprise. That was a bit of a shame – even quietly, Nick had a nice timbre to his voice and held the tune much better than tone-deaf Dean did.  
“Yeah.” The gold-winged angel looked a little confused. “How do you…”  
“My brother has a weird obsession with Earth music and plays that song sometimes, but you sing it better than he does.” Sam couldn’t miss an opportunity to talk shit on Dean.  
  
A little huff of happy disbelief left the other angel’s lips as Kevin crumbled part of the boulder. “You like my singing? My brothers always hated it and thought it was beyond annoying.”  
Sam didn’t miss the bitter edge on his voice and the way Nick’s eyes widened a little at his own statement, as though he couldn’t believe he’d just come out and said that.  
“Yeah, you’re singing’s great.” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern as he put the stone back down. “If you don’t mind me saying, your brothers sound kinda like dicks.”  
“Ugh.” Nick shrugged, although the bitterness crept into his voice again. “Yeah well they died in the Second Holy War, so they’re gone now.”  
A tug of sadness pulled in Sam’s chest, even though he hardly knew the guy. His face dropped into an apology. “Oh. Well I’m so sorry to hear that. It sounds awful.”  
“Yeah, well as you said, they were dicks.” Nick brightened up and clapped his hands over his thighs. “I should sing to you in my proper voice sometime. Maybe you’d like that too.”  
He capped the sentence with a wink, all bitterness melted like snow in the sun. For a moment, Sam kinda wanted to press; he recognized the signs of repressed issues from the king of stoic repression, Dean, but in the middle of a lecture fifteen minutes after meeting the guy didn’t really seem like the place or time. So Sam just shot him the warmest smile he could muster.  
“Yeah, definitely! Any time you like.” The tall angel noted how Nick’s wings twitched with happiness, then felt a poke on his arm.  
“Sam? Seriously I said your name like, twice.” Kevin glanced between him and Nick, who seemed smug, then turned to the boulder. “If we dissolve the left and right sides simultaneously, we should crack this.”  
  
Sam turned back to the task at hand and noticed with a small smile that Nick had started singing Stairway to Heaven again. The way he swung his legs and sang was actually kind of cute and Sam could only put his brothers’ douchiness down to…well, brotherly douchiness. Well Sam’d tell him every freaking day that his singing was good if it made Nick this adorably happy, because for some reason it made him happy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So welcome to part 2 of the Angel Academy Saga! The world was too good to let go, so it's back bros! This one will expand on this universe, still have some Dean and Cas in it for those of you who are thirsty for those dudes and hopefully you will enjoy it as much as the first one! I'd love to hear your initial impressions and thoughts, so drop a comment if you like. Can't wait to hear what you think c:  
> Here's what our seductive "Nick" looks like (sketch by me! - deviantart [ here! ](http://hades-the-mighty.deviantart.com/) ) I'd love for Mark Pellegrino to see it someday, but I have no idea how! ehehe  
> 


	2. Blinded By The Light

“Nikoleia?” Frankeris, their translation tutor, frowned and seemed to scan through his mental roll. Then his eyes went out of focus for a moment as Sam assumed he found what he was looking for, and the tutor smiled at Nick.  
“Oh yes, of course. You’re the special case.” His voice was a little odd, but Frankeris was a little odd at the best of times.  
“I was thinking, that because Jess is away, that Nick could buddy up with me?” Sam suggested and shared a glance with Nick, who bobbed back on his heels, smiled and raised his eyebrows at the Frankeris expectantly.  
“Yes of course.” The silver-haired angel nodded at Nick. “Sam’s the best in the class, so you’ll learn a lot with him. Hell, he even teaches _me_ things sometimes!”  
“Mm, that’s impressive Sammy.” Nick sounded genuinely fascinated as they walked over to the free translation panel beside Kevin and Channing. With anyone else, Sam would’ve told them to drop the ‘Sammy’, that only Dean could call him that. But somehow...it didn’t feel weird when Nick said it.  
“Well I can’t take all the credit for it.” Sam waved a hand over the panel and brought up the Archaic Enochian task for today. True, they could only learn the basics, as it was only meant for the archangels to read, but with enough determination and study, Sam hoped he’d be able to read some of the ancient tomes in the Library of Heaven. “I’ve got a foster parent who speaks just about anything. Just a few hours ago, we found shards of some sort of tablet and a symbol leger by the prophet Isiah.”  
  
Nick’s eyes snapped up to him and held a curled finger loose against his lips in thought. “A tablet? You don’t think it was one of _the_ tablets, do you?”  
Sam suddenly realized that Bobbicus had expressly forbade him to mention what they’d found to any other angel and floundered for a second. “Ahh, no, no , er, I…I don’t think so. I mean of course I’d know if it was one of _the_ tablets, wouldn’t I?”  
“’Course you would.” Nick nodded and turned back to the panel. “I won’t say anything to anyone though, just in case. We wouldn’t want you being stalked by over-enthusiastic archaeologists.”  
“Yeah, thanks Nick.” Sam let out an inward breath of relief and was glad that Nick was so calm about it. Why had he told him that? It almost felt natural as though he _should_ trust Nick. Sam didn’t notice the worried glances Kevin shot across at them and found himself in an easy conversation with the gold-winged angel. It seemed that Nick could just talk and talk about anything that came into his head; and if he wasn’t talking, he sang to himself, as though he were unaware that he did it. At times, Sam even found himself humming along to the songs he knew, which just seemed to make Nick even more happy; the blonde angel just about fell off the flat base of the coding panel he’d climbed up and knelt on the first time Sam did it. The tall angel just waggled his eyebrows and hummed their little duet with more vigour. Yeah, he knew he was about as tuneful as Dean in speaking-throat singing, but Nick didn’t tell him to stop. 

“Alright, class!” Frankeris called out and clapped his hands at the end of the shift. Needless to say, Nick was _very_ good, and enthusiastic about translation (the fact he’d climbed up on the coding panel said that – Sam thought Frankeris would rip into him, but Nick only got weird glances from the other students) and they’d easily translated the whole piece. “Eleanora and I have come up with your Lore assignment. You’ve gotta unearth some sort of ancient item in Heaven or Earth and write a dissertation on it. We’ve discussed with the other departments and they agree to give you four months of free time in which to do this, effective next Academy shift. Now I don’t care if it’s Joshua’s hairbrush or the damn Crucifix of Jesus, but find something by yourself or in pairs and write about it.”  
“Wanna partner up, buddy?” Nick piped up immediately and bumped their shoulders and Sam couldn’t bring himself to say no. Jess would be fine, and he’d be happy to help her if she really needed it.  
“Yeah, sure.” Sam smiled down at the shorter angel, who began to list off things they could go looking for in an offhand kind of way, more like he was talking to himself than to Sam. He’d noticed that, even in this short amount of time; Nick would often do or say things and be surprised when Sam responded or joined in. It was like he hadn’t been around other angels for...oh yes of course. He’d been assigned to Earth for a hundred years. But alone? Yeah, some angels could stay in one place for hundreds of years and not care, but maybe Nick had gotten lonely – Sam sure as hell would’ve, especially if some of his family had just died.  
“Hey…” Sam caught Nick’s shoulder and his eyebrows creased upwards as the other angel trailed off. “On Earth for a hundred years…did you get lonely?”  
Nick tensed for a moment, then relaxed into an easy smirk. When he spoke, his tone seemed confident, but something in Sam’s Grace felt it wasn’t all genuine. “Of course not. Why would I get lonely? Anyway, I’ve got another lesson to go to, so I won’t keep ya. Bye partner.”  
  
Sam sighed at the abrupt empty space in front of him. Had he pissed Nick off with that question? It seemed the blonde angel was as good with admitting things as Dean was, and for some reason, Sam really wanted to help him. The grey-winged angel gave a huff, laced his fingers together behind him and eased into a luxurious stretch.  
“Hey Sam, can I talk to you?” Kevin glanced at where Nick had been a moment before and seemed a little worried. Sam dropped his arms and pushed his long, brown hair back into place.  
“Yeah, let’s go to the common room though, before Frankeris ropes us into being Advanced Translation spokes-angels for his Second Levels.” One time Sam and Kevin had stayed behind a little too long and basically been asked to give speeches about the wonders and joys of Frankeris’ subject. As much as Sam loved Translation, there was only so much shameless advertising he could submit himself to. Kevin glanced over at the door and nodded.  
“Yeah, sounds good to me.”  
  
They both gave a flap and re-appeared by the lime green chairs and little glass work-tables of the common room.  
“You…um, you seem to get along well with Nick.” Kevin started, as though unsure of how to address the subject. Kevin was a timid angel at best of times, so Sam just took a seat so he didn’t loom over the little guy.  
“Yeah, he’s great.” The taller angel shrugged. “He loves translation and archaeology, has an awesome sense of humour and I don’t know, I just like him.”  
“He doesn’t seem…a little weird to you?” If Kevin was going to drag Nick’s singing, he was in for the disapproving Sam scowl.  
“He’s allowed to be a bit quirky. It’s…it’s kinda refreshing actually.” Sam looked up at the other angel with honesty. Kevin still had a strange look about him, as if he were unsure how to say what he wanted to say.  
“He’s – “  
“Hey guys!”  
  
All of a sudden a burst of orange flew into Kevin, then Sam choked as the air was squeezed out of him.  
“Charlie?” Sam breathed out in relief; Charlie had been gone for three months. At first they’d thought Raphael had finally made his move and smote her, but she’d sent them a note that she’d gone to visit her mother on Earth. Apparently her mother had chosen to fall about 25 years ago, and even though she was now a human named Anna, Charlie often went to watch over her or invite her out for coffee, even though Anna had no idea Charlie was her angelic daughter. They’d understood her secrecy; having a fallen angel for a parent didn’t make you popular, let alone visiting said fallen angel. At least Anna had gone full human instead of pledging allegiance to Lucifer, because Raphael didn’t need any more of an excuse to kill Charlie. And there was the small fact that Castiel would have had to murder Charlie’s mother on the principle that he was the Scourge of the Fallen. But Sam was just glad she was back safe where they could keep an eye on her.  
“I’m back bitches!” She grinned, bright-faced and full of life as usual.  
“Yeah, how was your mom?” Kevin smiled. On the subject of mothers, Kevin’s couldn’t be less like her son; after Castiel’s demotion of Rachel, the lieutenant who had just about fed his entire command force to Hell, Balthazar had become second in command and Lindarelia of the specialized Tiger Regiment had risen to be their lieutenant. She had apparently taken command and kept the command force fighting while Balthazar brought reinforcements. Sam smiled at the thought of the wiry little angel; she looked like someone a big, muscular angel like him could just flick out the way, but he knew he’d have his fingers sliced off before he even touched her.  
“Yeah, mom was…” Charlie trailed off for a moment as though trying to recall. Sam frowned at her trouble. Only First Generation angels ever had problems with memory (or specifically tortured ones, like Castiel had been during one of the wars) and that was because they had billions of years under the belt. But Charlie’s hesitation was only for a second. “Yes, she was awesome! I think she’s found someone too, which means I might get a little sibling!”  
  
The bubbly ginger angel clapped her hands and bounced with excitement. “Maybe I should become a Guardian Angel!”  
“Pfft.” Sam couldn’t imagine Charlie leaving coding for hell or high water now that she’d been given the dream job as Head Coder in Castiel’s command. “By the time you got qualifications for that, they’d be long gone. Just be their unofficial guardian!”  
“Oh yeah.” Charlie looked a little put out for a second. “I forgot how short human lives are. Darn.”  
“Well when they die, they’ll come to Heaven anyway and you’ll get to see them all the time.” Sam shrugged and Kevin nodded along as though he hadn’t thought of that.  
“Yeah true…though would a fallen, human angel come to Heaven?” Charlie mused and her vibrant wings drooped a little.  
“I’m sure if you guided her soul she would.” Kevin gave a comforting smile. “I mean you could probably create a Heaven for them with your coding skills.”  
Charlie ducked her head and smiled. “Aw thanks Kevin. Anyway, you guys free? I thought I could educate you on some Harry Potter.”  
Sam nodded; today wasn’t an Academy Shift of back-to-back lectures, so he could probably watch something with Charlie. For a moment his mind drifted to Nick, and how weird but endearing the blonde angel was. With a start, he realized he been too distracted to get his project buddy’s frequency. Maybe Nick had picked his up. He hoped so, because Sam had no idea whether the gold-winged angel had a space in the Academy like he did or stayed with his family or even had his own space – if his brothers had died in the Second Holy War, then Nick was either a First or Second Generation angel (probably Second, Sam guessed, as he didn’t have a qualification) and he may very well have the training and permission to build his own space. The strange angel intrigued him, and as a research academic, Sam couldn’t wait to solve this blue-eyed mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another kiinda establishing chapter. If you're wondering, Sam looks like S7 asylum Sam with the beginnings of a beard (because he looks gorgeous with rough manly stubble lol) I'll probably do a sketch somewhere along the line. n.n Next chapter we get to hear from S̖̣̜ͤͣͬͭ̾ạ͇͓͍̙̚ͅt̶̖̯͎̤̫ͭa̱̞͙ͬ͞n̬̮̝̩̠̗͓ so stay tuned for that! I'd love to hear any theories on how he got free and why he's in Heaven :D As always, tell me what you think!  
> I'm a bit of a biologist/history person, so here's a little chart that explains the Angel Generations:  
>   
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. So Lucifer Goes Into A Bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this scene is basically based off [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBkSFPfNluM) video from 0.49 onwards haha. Also, eyeball violence.

“Sir…are you sure you’re in the right place?” The barkeep of this testosterone fuelled macho biker-man bar felt as though he was going to have a brawl, if not murder on his hands tonight. Seriously, this pouf should know better, but he couldn’t really kick him out.  
“Mm, get me a strawberry daiquiri, double the rum.” The blonde man winked at him with mascara on his eyelashes which popped against the blood-red feather boa across his bare chest.  
“I’m sorry we don’t – “  
“I think you do.” The man pointed and the bartender turned to see a stash of frozen strawberries he never remembered buying, and suddenly he knew exactly how to make a daiquiri. “And you better make the colour match my shoes.”  
Oh, the barkeep had seen his shoes – red stilettos that poked out from under black leather jeans. How this weirdo had even made to the counter was beyond him, but there was something about the man...something that made the bartender bow his head and get to work.

Lucifer gave a smirk and drummed the Devil’s tap into the counter. Today…today had been strange. Sam for one. How could that angel meet his gaze? Lucifer had been drawn like a magnet to the tall, tanned, muscular, doe-eyed…Mm, now there was no denying that Sam was a hot piece of angel, but not the first hot piece of angel Lucifer had ever seen, and his lack of control wasn’t at all normal or healthy. No, he’d had mass-murder orgies with demons, seduced the most asexual angel on to his bed and into his ranks, fucked dark beasts and even (gross as it was, but sometimes the mood took him) humans to create new Hellspawn. He had _created_ lust, so there was no way it got the better of him. No way. Lucifer knew the taste of lust and although there were tinges of it, that wasn’t the full flavour, as hot as that shaggy, stubbled nerd was. He sighed as the barkeep pushed his drink over and the archangel took a sip. Not bad, but good enough to avoid being violently killed? To be decided, really.  


Lucifer hummed and a warm glow buzzed in his stomach and up through his towering white wings as he thought of Sam’s smile when he’d praised his singing. Ugh, don’t be disgusting, Luci. He picked at the sugar on the rim of his drink and tried to analyse the sensation. True, he did like to sing, sometimes the same song fifty times over (but hey, who was perfect?) and Michael and Raphael had always told him to either get better or shut up. Gabriel had just found the whole thing hilarious and Lucifer was never sure if he’d been laughing at him or with him. But that was the past and it was only something small and stupid like singing (and not even proper angel singing at that), not something like, oh, I don’t know, throwing him in The Cage for a million years or whatever.  
  
Lucifer took another sip and scowled. How had Sam picked up that he’d been lonely? Even he thought he’d just been primarily bored and supposed he’d picked up the habit of talking to himself because he had nothing better to do. But Sam paid attention to him and laughed with him and talked to him – back to him – and Lucifer hadn’t realized he’d missed the banter of another angel…oh no, had he gone soft in The Cage? Oh, come _on_ Satan, what’d he expect? To be ignored? True, Lucifer hadn’t anticipated an angel that looked him in the eye without fear or talked so openly with him. Yes, he was a master of disguise but even he could tell the other angels saw a little more in him, something that wasn’t to be messed with…all except that giant handsome idiot who Lucifer so wanted to climb like a tree. And bite him, slap him and touch him and card his nails through those little virgin wings until the tanned Adonis was a tortured wreck of pleasure on the floor. Damn, he was daydreaming like a schoolgirl, even though it was more of a gentle consideration than an actual burning need. Yes, he wanted to, but he wasn't some animal in heat. What he couldn’t control was this sick warmth. Lucifer took a breath and took a good long look at it. It wasn’t painful or hot like a curse or big bro Michael’s wrath, nor was it decadent or sinful. This sensation made him want to go to Sam and talk to him some more, it gave him the stupid _unheard_ of worry that Sam would somehow find him annoying or not want to know him anymore and Lucifer hated it. He wanted to burn it out of his system, eradicate this needy poison, Hell, he’d trade it for uncontrollable lust any day. At least then he’d just be able to hold Sam down and do whatever the fuck he wanted to him.  


But even though Lucifer had fathered sin, the thought made him sick, and the sickness made him angry. Damnit. He glared across at the mirror in the bar until it cracked. No, Sam was just one little angel, a tool in Lucifer’s plans. It sounded like Sam had fragments of the Leviathan Tablet, through process of location elimination, and a leger for the command tablets. Looking at the gorgeous angel’s perfect translation of Archaic Enochian, it wouldn’t take long to crack the Word of God between them. Lucifer took another sip. Yep, he’d use Sam, and when he’d done his job, he’d explode him or whatever. The thought of Sam dying made Lucifer’s Grace contract in a way he’d never felt before, but he shoved it out of his mind. This was bigger, this was his shot at dominion over Heaven and Earth and hey, it was third time lucky.  


Satan was so caught up, he didn’t notice a gang of big, disgusted-looking men pad up to him.  
“Hey fellas, I didn’t think the standard of this place dropped. When did they start serving _his_ kind?” One of them sneered and it just made Lucifer’s night.  
“What do you mean by that, big boy?” He made a kiss with his lips. These dirty little monkeys took his invention of hatred and turned it on the most weird things. Hating other religions was ironic and hilarious, hating the lower-class was predictable, hating other humans based on personal vendettas was great, but the whole sexual\gender\appearance hatred thing? Lucifer had never really got that one, maybe because angels didn’t give a shit about those things.  
“It means that I’m gonna drag you outside and then me and the boys are gonna have a little fun beating your unnatural ass back to normal, aren’t we boys?” The stupid cockroach – no, that was an insult to cockroaches – cracked his knuckles and his pathetic little cronies sniggered.  
“What’re you going to do? Kill me?” Lucifer put a theatrical hand up to his throat then curved in his shoulders. “Ooh, I’m so proud you’re giving me tingles.”  
“Why you little – “ The man’s fist slammed forward, but Lucifer lazily caught it with one hand as he sipped his drink. There was a beautiful crack as he snapped the man’s wrist and twisted his arm so hard the elbow joint popped out. The man crumpled face-up on to the bar surface but Satan didn’t allow him to scream or his buddies to move in. He wanted them to watch.  
“You know what this needs?” Lucifer mused at his daiquiri and didn’t even spare his victim a glance. He conjured up a toothpick and hummed a happy little tune as he hovered over the big man’s face. The human looked up at him, terror in those piggy little eyes, and he tried to squirm away from the archangel.  
“Mm mm mm, porky, no running now.” He murmured and lowered the toothpick nice and slow toward the man’s eye and forced it to stay open. Lucifer could feel the delicious tremors of fear as he stroked the big man’s chest, could hear the whimpers trying to choke out of his throat and taste the man’s terrified anticipation. Damn, he’d missed this. “Open wide now, there’s a good boy.”  
  
The Devil slid the pointed wood at a nice, leisurely pace into the eyeball, as the man jerked and spasmed in pain beneath him. He wiggled it around a bit with a thoughtful look, the ripped it out whole with a squelching pop. None of the other patrons could actually see this lovely little scene, but sometime soon they were going to notice that all the windows and doors were sealed. Lucifer turned back to the gang, some of whom looked like they’d thrown up in their mouths, dipped the eyeball in his drink, then ate it with a meaty crunch.  
“Y’know, I just love the…mmm, the warm gooey pop of black slime and strawberry.” Satan nodded with appreciation. “I was gonna let this grungy little den survive, but I haven’t had fun in a long time. So I’m gonna make a swimming pool out of your blood. How does that sound?”  
He shot them a perky little smile and helped himself to a second eyeball.  
“Who…who are you?” One of them managed out because Lucifer let him.  
“Oh, I’m the Devil.” He crossed his legs and made a little ankle circle with his high-heels. “And it looks like I really do wear Prada.”  
Time to have some fun. Lucifer ripped Eyeless’ throat out and conjured a chain that wrapped itself around the man’s foot and hauled him up into the ceiling. Blood pattered down onto Satan in a glorious shower of viscous red.  
“Mmm, it’ll keep you young!” He laughed and let the men go – scream, run, do whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter because nobody could escape until he was done, and the Devil planned to really indulge in every last sweet bit of violence and good old basic physical torture that he’d missed over the hundreds of years since the last Holy War. Just get it out of his system so that he could get on to bigger and better things. Lucifer smiled as he conjured a blunt skinning knife amidst the blood and the screaming, sentient meat. Heaven, Hell and Earth would be his this time. He’d learned his lessons and now nothing could stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me some Satan. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far, you're all awesome! and I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	4. Stars

Dean picked up a spear Bobbicus had found in his basement spring cleaning bonanza. The old bear had just left it on the coffee table between the couch with a grunt that Dean was into stabbing things, so maybe he’d like it. The tawny-winged angel smiled, but this weapon was a little above his Third-generation paygrade, he felt; the spear tip was stained with red blood that emanated some extreme power. Bobby wouldn’t have the frickin Jesus Spear in his basement would he? Maybe he should call Cas to have a look. Dean gave a little smirk as he thought of the black-winged angel, probably in the midst of a lecture, and whether he’d fuck Dean into a crater if he sent him flirty telepathic porn by way of getting his attention. He’d just figured out a nice little scenario: His hands would be strung up by a chain attached to those angel-binding manacles while he straddled Cas’s lap and the black-winged angel kissed and sucked on his skin and fucked up into his Grace. Fire burned up Dean’s neck at even the thought. Damn, as soon as Cas was finished – 

The beat of wings snapped the warrior angel out of his dirty, dirty thoughts.  
“Kevin?” Dean frowned and looked about for the purple-winged angel’s usual hulking shadow of Sam. Kevin seemed nervous and glanced around as though looking for someone. “Sam’s not here but – “  
“Good – well, no I wanted to tell Sam but I’m not sure he’d listen and – “  
“Hey, slow down there Kevin.” Dean gingerly placed the spear back on Bobbicus’ coffee table and beckoned the slender angel to sit down. “You tell me, I can tell Sam if you want.”  
Kevin sighed and just about tripped over himself to get to a seat in his hurry. A twinge picked at Dean’s stomach. Was Sammy in trouble?  
“Ok, well there were some new angels introduced to our class today.” Kevin’s wings were a little too tense, but Dean just clasped his hands loosely between his thighs and tried not to fix him with a gaze that’d make the poor guy even more shaken up. “There were, like, five of them, but one? He…it was weird man.”  
The black haired angel looked down, then back up at Dean.  
“It was like…you couldn’t quite look at him right, I don’t know, and he was beautiful too, like beautiful in a way that was there but not there? I couldn’t even tell what Generation he was. But his eyes were just…” Kevin trailed off and swallowed. “When he was in our study group, I got glimpses now and again. They were kinda cold like the inside of him was made of ice, or like there was nothing behind them, I don’t know, maybe it was just me. I don’t know how Sam…”  
“How Sam did what?” Dean pressed, tone sharper than it should have been. Yeah, Sam could beat off pretty-boy angels till Christ came home, but it was odd to see Kevin so worked up.  
“They became friends in, like two seconds!” The little angel blurted out. “Sam was even talking out loud during Eleanora’s class and then there was the singing…”  
“Well Sam’s got a bit of rebel in him now and again.” Dean chuckled then did a little backtrack in surprise. “Wait, what do you mean, singing?”  
  
Sam was tone frickin deaf, unlike him. That kid couldn’t even find his singing throat no matter how hard Dean tried to meditate it out of him.  
“Nick – that’s the angel’s name – _never_ stops singing or humming or talking. It’s torture! I don’t know how Sam doesn’t mind!” Kevin dragged a hand down his face and shot Dean a tried look. “He sang Stairway to Heaven six times during Archaeology and Sam acted like it was freakin Gabriel the herald of God singing beautiful hymns or something! And then in Translation, he started humming along! But y’know…Sam is kinda big and dominant for the Academy of Lore in the first place and even the teachers don’t look Nick in the eye long. You know what that means? Nobody dared tell them to just shut up and next lesson I’m just conjuring earplugs or I might go insane.”  
  
Kevin finally took a huge breath from his spiel and slumped back against the wing-friendly couch. Dean just chortled to himself. Seriously, Sammy was going full Les Miserables in Translation class?  
“Sounds like he just made a new friend to me. A kinda douchey one maybe.” He shrugged. Sam was a much more social angel than he was; Dean had lots of contacts, but Sam had lots of friends, and the skyscraper getting a new buddy wasn’t news to him.  
“Dean…” Kevin sat up and saw worry in his dark eyes. “All that aside, this Nick does give me the creeps. And it’s even weirder that Sam can’t see it. Maybe it’s just me, but the other angels seemed a little confused and tense around Nick too.”  
“Alright, I’ll talk to him when I can.” Dean gave the purple-winged angel a little smile. He’d probably get some nerded out story about some dusty old piece of rock Sam and his new buddy had befriended, but he could sacrifice the boredom of a little brother geek out for the sake of Sam now and again. But it didn’t sound like much, just another dominant angel like Cas or Balthazar. Dean had noted that the more authoritative the angel, the more kooky they were; Michael had naked pedicures, Gabriel went Undercover Janitor and Dean didn’t even want to imagine what Raphael got up to in his spare time. He smirked as Kevin left and Dean found mental porn stash again. His Grace quivered at the thought of Cas being all ‘Commanding Marshal of Heaven Tutor’. Maybe he could persuade the black-winged angel to keep up the student-teacher act a little longer…Dean’s wings shifted as a thrill of excitement thrummed down them and his smirk got even dirtier. Then he opened a channel to his mate.

***

Sam had made it through the last Academy Shift before the assignment months and had just finished The Order of the Phoenix with Charlie when a message pinged along his personal wavelength.  
_Hey buddy! How does starting that assignment sound to you?_  
A grin spread over his face before Sam had even realized it. He could just about see Nick’s confident little eyebrow flick as he said that and a pulse of excitement fizzed in Sam’s chest. For some reason he just couldn’t wait to see the blonde angel again.  
He latched onto the signal and logged it.  
_Yeah, I’m free. I can come to you? Or…_  
“What’re you grinning at, Godzilla?” Charlie laughed and batted his shoulder as she popped the disc back into its case. Charlie’s space was a tech heaven, excuse the pun; full of panels, Earth gadgets, coding tomes and heaps more, all crammed into the spacious apartment Charlie had fashioned. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that the Academy-regulation-size space had been expanded by several hundred metres; if Charlie could hack Michael, she could hack the extra-strict restriction locks put on any coding student space.  
_I’ll be waiting Sammy! Don’t be long now._ The warm tease in his voice came through and Sam had to make a conscious effort to reign in the smile. It was really nice to have a partner who just wanted to get stuck in and get it out the way well before the due date. If there was something Sam didn’t do, it was last minute bullshit assignments.  
_On my way._  
“Ahh, it’s my assignment buddy.” Sam shuffled his dappled grey wings in anticipation and stood up. “I should kinda go and help him out – he’s new.”  
Charlie’s eyes sparkled, but there were dark rings beneath them as though she’d been straining herself. “Aw, that’s cute. Big ol’ Sam taking a newbie under his wing, huh?”  
Sam ducked his head and a little smile dimpled his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s me! Anyway, I gotta go. Call me again for more movies.”  
And with that, Sam spread his long, itching wings and fluttered into existence beside Nick. 

The gold winged-angel sat on the tabletop of one of the elaborate stone work benches scattered across the Academy’s sunny back field, and Sam let out a little breath of relief. It wasn’t anxious relief born of worry, it was more like the sigh of relief he’d give whenever he arrived back at his space after a long week of none-stop research.  
“Hey there.” Nick rested his chin on the hand supported by his knees and flicked those blue eyes up to him. A smile pulled at Sam’s lip and he climbed up next to his assignment partner.  
“Hey. So what were you thinking? We could scour Jerusalem for something.” Sam shrugged and laced his hands together between his knees . That was the basic go-to action for an assignment like this. Jerusalem, Egypt, Corinth… Nick considered him for a moment with a gaze that Sam couldn’t read, but didn’t really feel uncomfortable under – the opposite in fact.  
“Now that’s what everyone is going to do, isn’t it Sammy? I was thinking of something a little more…ambitious.” The sandy-blonde angel watched himself crumble a piece of loose stone between his fingertips, then looked back at Sam. “When I was on Earth, I heard things, you know. Rumours. Little…hints here and there from passing demons.”  
  
Sam cocked his head and leaned a little closer to Nick. The other angel’s wings glowed in the light of Heaven, and Sam realized for the second time just how beautiful Nick was. There was just something in the way the light seemed to highlight and shadow the perfect areas of his skin, the way his hair fell, the movement of his eyes and lips. For a moment, Sam had the urge to see him naked, like someone might want to remove the coverings from a perfectly-carved Greek statue. When he got to know him a bit better he might – most angels weren’t too bothered about clothing or the lack of, but others had a strangely human dignity complex, so everyone generally stayed clothed.  
“About what?”  
“The Angel Tablet, Sam.” Nick’s eyes lit up and he vaulted off the bench. The smaller angel braced his hands on Sam’s knees, leaned toward him and took in his wide eyes. “Just imagine if you found it, Sammy. _The_ Angel Tablet.”  
A strand of silky blonde had fallen across Nick’s face in his excitement, so Sam reached up and tucked it behind his ear. A tingle of happy warmth lit Sam’s chest as the other angel unintentionally leaned slightly into the touch. But what he was saying? No, that was crazy.  
“Dude, imagine the trouble we’d get in! That thing has the power to close Heaven, never mind whatever else it can do. Michael would kick our asses into the next millennia!”  
Nick’s gaze sharpened for a moment, but then he turned and paced around Sam’s side, where the table ended, a finger held against his mouth as if he were thinking.  
“Michael would reward us, Sam. We’d go down in history as the angels that found the tablet and made Heaven all-powerful. Think about it.” Nick raised his eyebrows and rocked back on his heels, one hand pressed against his own cheek. “Would you rather be Stunt Angel Number 1 or Samuel, Finder of the Word of God.”

If Dean, if anyone else had suggested they unearth one of the most powerful objects in creation, Sam knew he’d protest, he’d ask what the hell had gotten into them. But for some reason, he trusted Nick down to his Grace. And…there was no denying the knowledge was tempting – not the power, no, only Michael should have that much power. But the actual discovery, the fact that after millions of years of searching he and Nick might be the ones to find it…Sam looked back at his partner, and then noticed his wing closest to the blonde angel had begun to stretch out towards him. What the heck? Sam shot it an annoyed glance and pulled it back in. He missed the amused smirk that flashed across Nick’s face.  
“If we unearth the Word, we won’t be able to read it – and a prophet will awaken and only they can translate it anyway.” Sam hated to be the negative voice of reason, but protocols came with objects of such power, fail-safes. Nick crossed his arms, expression unreadable again, as though he were considering Sam.  
“Sounds to me like you already have a leger and fragments of the Word of God, Sam. The ones you told me about the other day?” Nick cocked his head, and Sam sighed. He shouldn’t have mentioned them, but even though he hadn’t known the angel long, it felt right to talk to Nick about these things. Nick hadn’t breathed a word to another angel, he hadn’t called Raphael or Castiel in shock (no, not even Dean and Castiel knew about it)…he’d just nodded and accepted Sam’s request for secrecy.  
“Yeah, uh, Bobbicus is pretty sure.” Sam nodded - he’d spent every free hour in the previous Academy shift with the grizzled angel and the fragments, but he’d had to give in to Charlie’s offer of movies when both of their Graces had started to ache with a vengeance.  
“Then we get the tablet, bring it here, to Heaven, you and I get A+’s all around, the archangels will get the Angel tablet and a prophet to boot, which will make them melt like butter in your cute little puppy-dog stare, and everyone gets a happy ending, probably in the fun way too. Sound good to you?” Nick raised his eyebrows and put that habitual, thoughtful finger up to his mouth again. Sam let out a huff of laughter at his partner’s kinda refreshing inappropriateness. Jeez, he was worse than Balthazar. “And if the prophet gets kidnapped by demons or something, then we have a back-up leger.” 

The shorter angel hopped back up beside Sam and sat cross-legged on the table-top, an expectant little smile on his face as he held his own feet. Sam gave a helpless, dimpled smile at the adorable little gold-winged guy. He’d never met an angel that had smart, cute and funny all rolled into one (Dean would probably like to label himself as that, but no, just no).  
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah. Sure, let’s do it.” A buzz of excitement swarmed up Sam’s chest as he thought on it. Just imagine if they did find it. The intact Angel Tablet, the word of God Himself, transcribed by the great Scribe Metatron. The thrill of such an artefact, such a find, paired with the fragments they already had…  
“That’s the adventure spirit I like to see Sammy, that’s what I like to see!” Nick clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a little shake like an enthusiastic football coach.  
Sam grinned at his outburst. “I need to get back on good terms with Michael anyway, since I bust in on his naked pedicure session last year.”  
  
Nick froze, and then burst out into laughter so violent it shook his wings. He dropped his forehead onto Sam’s shoulder as wheezing giggles wracked his body and Sam gave a confused chuckle. It was kinda funny, but not _that_ funny.  
“Y-you did – “ Nick dissolved into laughter again and one of his arms looped over Sam’s chest and around his other shoulder, as though if he didn’t hold on to something he’d fall off the table.  
“You did what?” The gold-winged angel managed out and coughed as he dried his eyes.  
“We had to talk to Michael, so some friends kinda, uh, hacked his space and he was getting a chest massage and his nails done.” Sam smirked at the memory – terrifying at the time, but it actually was kinda hilarious looking back. Nick just hiccoughed as more hysterical laughter tried to push out of his throat. Sam patted the arm across his chest and the inner gossip came out in him. “Y’know he looks kinda scrawnier than I expected.”  
He conjured a picture and Nick broke out into sniggers; his wings just about wiggled in happiness.  
Sam grinned and something warm sank through his chest and pooled in his stomach. Fondness? Was that it? Dean might argue that Castiel was the most beautiful angel ever created and the saying went that Lucifer was beauty (and evil) incarnate. But Nick had a glow about him, a beauty, an enthusiasm, an endearing charm that Sam didn’t think any angel could top. More than that, even though he never usually felt discomfort in daily life, he felt so safe around Nick, like he could say anything or do anything and the angel wouldn’t judge.  
“Oh, that really cheered me up.” Nick’s arm slid off Sam’s chest and rested loosely on his thigh. Sam looked over with a fond smile at the head that turned and practically melted into his shoulder. But Nick didn’t look back at him; his eyes were fixed on the dancing rainbow-blue sky of Heaven, almost wistful. On impulse, Sam looped a long arm under Nick’s wings and around his lower back. 

They sat like that for a while, feathers almost touching, and Sam felt that even if they did, he wouldn’t mind that much.  
“You alright?” Sam stroked his friend’s waist and followed Nick’s gaze up to the sky.  
“Yeah, it’s just been a long time. I guess I missed it here.” The shorter angel sighed. Sam couldn’t see his face, but it felt like the blonde angel’s shields had dropped a little bit. His field trip had only been a hundred years, hadn’t it? It wasn’t that long, but Nick appeared to be really sociable angel, and it seemed cruel to him to drop him on Earth and leave him there alone for even a hundred years. Sam gave him a little squeeze as his Grace ached like it had picked up the energy of Nick’s emotions.  
“Hey, how about I take you somewhere?” Sam offered and gave his best big brown eyes at the other angel. Nick snorted as though he couldn’t believe Sam had just said that, and the taller angel felt his walls creep back up. “Come on. You’ll love it, I promise.”

He unhooked his arm from around the other angel (being very wary of his wings) and took Nick’s hand. Before the blonde angel could protest, he gave a quick flap and re-appeared on the outskirts of Heaven. It wasn’t a well-known place like the Palace of Arts or the Golden City of Saints; more like an old, useless extra piece of space that had been forgotten by even the archangels, but Sam loved it. When they were small, their dad had dropped him and Dean here sometimes on his quest for their mother – he’d learned to fly here, mostly, and the place always made him feel free. 

They stood on the gentle slope of a dark hillside covered in lush grass. As the space was so far out, Heaven’s light was only a faint glow on the horizon. But in its place whirled red, blue and white galaxies, millions and millions of stars in a dome of colour stark against the black of space. The air had a chill to it, but fresh like an Autumn evening instead of bitter. There was no sound here, no other angels talking, no sound of wings or footsteps or the buzz of angelic magic and transmission. Only the gentle patter of wind amongst the grass whispered underneath the huge silence of the void.  
Sam snuck a glance at Nick. His head was tilted up towards the sky and those ice-blue eyes seemed lost in the stars. They stood there for a long moment, hand in hand, taking in the vast beauty of space. It wasn’t often that Nick was utterly silent, Sam realized, but that was the clue to his emotions; when he sang and hummed he was comfortable and happy. When he talked, he was happy too, but perhaps more lonely than he realized. And when he was quiet? That’s when he was serious. Then Sam heard the rasp of feathers and the warmth of those sun-heated golden feathers hummed on his own for a moment. Nick gave a small beat of his wings and turned, just a few feet off the ground, hand still in Sam’s outstretched one.  
“Come fly with me Sam.” There was no tease, no smirk, just a simple, honest request, and Sam smiled in reply. In the dim light, Nick seemed to glow like the first star of the morning and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. 

The blonde angel’s intense eyes only left his when he saw Sam’s wings open, and he let go of Sam’s hand and turned toward the open vault. Sam soared up behind him and couldn’t help but notice how Nick’s feathers seemed to creak apart as though the other angel hadn’t flown short-distance in all the time he’d spent on Earth. It became even more apparent when Nick suddenly dived, then whirled in the air and shot back up again, more strength and power in those golden wings than Sam realized. He looked like a bird that had just been set free from its cage and even though the blonde angel didn’t grin or whoop for joy, somewhere in Sam he could feel that Nick was seriously enjoying himself.  
“Mmm, that feels good.” Nick closed his eyes and shimmied his shoulders, a content smile on his face.  
“Haven’t stretched your wings in a long time, huh?” Sam grinned and dove around him so that Nick had to spin in the air.  
“You could say that.” The other angel’s easy smirk made an appearance, and then he soared upwards into the starry void, Sam in tow. The hillside below shrank to a dark spot, and for a moment Sam worried that Nick might fly straight out of Heaven. But the golden-winged angel stopped a few feet short of the faint blue membrane that signified the highest reaches of the Heavenly Vault, though his eyes searched further.  
“I always thought it’d be fun to fly out there.” Sam sighed with a smile.  
“Mm.” Nick reached up and dipped his finger in the blue shimmer. “You could get away from it all. Heaven, Hell, God, the wars…All at the price of your Grace.”  
The memory of Nick recounting the death of his brothers slammed back into Sam like an archangel wing. Even though his friend had said they were dicks and he didn’t care that they were dead, Nick still seemed cut up about it in his own way.  
“Yeah. The Academy of Exploration have lost a few angels who didn’t comply to the distance code.” It was a horrible fate, to suddenly get so far away from Heaven that you slowly became human in the vacuum of space. Some heeded the warnings when their wings began to fail, but the odd few were too driven by curiosity to notice.  
“Eh, Heaven and Earth’s too much fun anyway.” He crinkled his nose and shot Sam a wink. Then he began a descent in slow, wide circles and Sam smiled at the snatches of humming he heard as he flapped to keep up with the other angel.

Nick stopped well before they got to the ground and turned to face Sam in the air. “You know, you really do know how to show a guy a good time.”  
Sam let out a little huff of laughter as the gold-winged angel reached up and wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck. His hands seemed magnetized to Nick’s hips and his eyes dropped to the other angel’s semi-pouted lips for a moment.  
“I like you Sam.” Nick all but whispered, and a pulse picked up in Sam’s Grace. “I like you more than any other angel I’ve met. And you…you like me too.”  
Sam closed his eyes for a second and breathed in the scent of ice and fire that clung to Nick’s hair and skin as they moved with the slow beats of their wings that kept them in the air. When he opened them again, Nick slid his hand over Sam’s stubbled jaw, face inches away. A warm glow seemed to simmer at every point where the touched and Nick was right; Sam more than liked him. He wanted nothing more than to hold the other angel all the time, to be with him, listen to him sing, laugh at his ridiculous inappropriateness and fly all around Heaven and Earth just in each other’s company.  
“Nick…”  
  
Then a boiling wash of heat crashed through Sam’s body from the top of his head, out through his wings and straight down his legs. It snatched away his breath and made his eyes fly wide with shock. Oh no. No, no no no. A stab of terror lanced through Sam and he let go of Nick as he recognized the symptom from Dean’s description. Word for word. Exact. Please no. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to turn into some mindless, sex-driven, distracted thing. He didn’t want to be like Dean and Castiel, to lose his independence and be forever a slave to some mating instinct like they were. Yes, they seemed to enjoy it, but Sam had seen how pained Dean got when Castiel travelled too far away or how wild and desperate the pair became when they hadn’t satisfied the incessant hunger in a few days. He didn’t, he couldn’t…  
“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Nick’s thumb stroked a gentle, warm line into his cheek and his eyes narrowed in concern.  
“Uh, ah, Dean’s calling me.” Sam managed out. “It’s an emergency. I’m really, really sorry but I have to go.”  
The heat had fizzled out as suddenly as it had appeared, and it kinda made Sam feel bad for just leaving Nick here. “I’ll call you later on and you can come and look at the tablet pieces in Bobbicus’ basement if you like.”  
“Mm, I’d like that very much.” Could Nick feel it too? He had to, didn’t he? The gold-winged angel slid his hand down Sam’s neck and onto his chest. Sam just tried to breathe properly in the wake of the fire and the panic.  
“Alright. I’ll see you later then.” And with that he latched onto Dean’s signal and winged the heck outta there.

Lucifer just about smote the entire space with frustration.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ヽ(๏∀๏ )ﾉ  
> Big chapter! I'm really trying to make it less of a text block, but I find that really difficult :/ Any pointers would be great! Besides that, tell me what you thought! It always makes my day, even if it's constructive c: Sam is one of those angels who is like oh shit noooo when it comes to mating ahaha, but I cute-ed myself out with this chapter (they weren't meant to be this cute help)  
> Also: Would y'all be interested in a playlist that helped inspire this fic? If so, say and I'll write it up n.n


	5. An Unstoppable Force and An Immovable Object

Sam reeled back off the security of Castiel’s space and steadied himself in the black void between spaces with a tilt of his wings. Of frickin course Dean was here. Maybe (small chance) but maybe Dean wasn’t ‘busy’ right now. Sam swallowed as it hit him that this might be him soon; consumed by a freaky, uncontrollable passion. True, Nick _was_ perfect in every way and the thought of his eyes, wings and active hands made Sam’s wings tingle. It hadn’t seemed like what Dean had described though. From what he could tell, his brother’s instinct had started off small – a bit of heat here and there, not a shockwave of it without warning and then nothing. His…affection for Nick couldn’t be explained by a mating instinct either. It didn’t care whether the angels involved loved or hated each other; it simply wanted offspring. Sam groaned inwardly as he knocked on the relative door of Castiel’s space. It was all so sudden and both the prospect of offspring or eternal, unforgiving lust scared the hell out of him.  
“Sam?” Castiel grated. Wow, the Marshal of Heaven was a mess. His tie had been just about pulled off while his trenchcoat hung roughly about his shoulders. The black feathers of those usually-immaculate wings stuck up like the angel’s hair and his eyes had a kinda drugged look about them.  
“Oh, er, yeah.” Sam bared his teeth in kind of a ‘whoops’ grimace. “I’m guessing Dean’s busy?”  
“He is a little tied up right now.” Castiel deadpanned, but Sam had a feeling that was more literal than he needed to know about.  
“Hahaa, alright then, well tell him I’d kinda like to talk to him when he’s…you’re done.” Sam tousled the back of his own hair and hoped to hell that the very unashamed Castiel wouldn’t go into more detail. Jeez, no, this was weird. Was he seriously going to end up like this?  
“I will do that.” Castiel gave a little nod, but kept staring. A visible shiver shot through his wings and the older angel’s jaw clenched.  
“Ookay, I’m just gonna…” Sam gestured behind him into the blackness. “See you round, I guess.”  
“See you.” Castiel nodded, and Sam turned to fly toward Bobbicus’.

“Now Sam, I’ve been staring at those darn chicken scratches all day and can’t make head or tail of it.” Bobbicus flopped down at his desk as he saw Sam alight in his living room. “And my Grace hurts like Satan’s been poking at it with a hot rod.”  
Sam, who had incidentally just taken Satan out on an angelic date, took a seat on the couch. “Do you think I could take a look at it later? I kinda accidentally told one of my archaeology friends about it and he wants a look.”  
The dark-haired angel looked up at his foster father with an expression of extreme guilt.  
“I thought I told you not to mention it to anyone, Sam!” Bobbicus grizzled and gave the younger brother an enduring sigh.  
“It kinda just slipped out.” Sam shrugged helplessly. Was his trust in Nick to do with the mating instinct too? No, that didn’t make sense either. He trusted Nick because Nick felt safe and that had nothing to do with producing offspring.  
“Well fine.” Bobbicus huffed. “I suppose three heads is better than two, so long as he keeps his lips zipped.”  
“No, I trust him.” Sam nodded and settled back to wait for Dean.

An hour passed and it seemed his brother still hadn’t been released from the clutches of horny Castiel, so Sam went with plan B and called Nick back. As soon as the gold-winged angel appeared in Bobbicus’ space, Sam just felt a little better – no, it definitely wasn’t to do with stupid lust or whatever. Nick had been a friend first and foremost, even though the sight of him now filled Sam with new curiosities. It didn’t rage or burn just…What would it be like to be kissed? He’d never been kissed before or had his wings touched…what was having an erection like?  
“Heya Sam.” Nick folded his hands over his stomach with that cocky little smile. If he was pissed off with Sam’s fast departure none of it showed.  
“Hey.” Sam said a little breathlessly and flashed a little grin at the other angel. They took one another in for a moment then Bobbicus trooped back in from his mission downstairs.  
“Oh, er, Nick, Bobbicus, Bobbicus, Nick.” Sam gestured between them and nodded at the bearded angel, whose expression went from unreadable to welcoming.  
“Good to meet you, Nick. Sam’s told me all about you.” He offered a hand to shake which the taller, blonde angel took. Sam noticed that Bobbicus glanced away from his friend’s ice-blue eyes, which was a little weird; Bobbicus wasn’t exactly Dean in dominance, but neither was Nick, unless you counted his self-confidence. Did that count?  
“Good to meet you, Bobbicus.” Nick’s tone was cool, and he looked back to Sam. “Shall we?”  
A tingle of excitement shot up the taller angel’s chest at the question that seemed more like a command, and Sam tried to stop himself from smiling or swallowing over things he didn’t want but kinda…kinda did want to explore. This whole thing was way too complicated and confusing, and Sam wished that it’d just left them alone.  
“Yeah, this way to the basement.” Sam led on and Nick rubbed his hands together.  
“Ooh, I just love me a good basement.” He shot Sam a little eager smile and fell into step behind him on the stairs.

***

Dean stumbled back into Bobbicus’ space and stifled a yawn as his Grace still tingled from Cas’s loving administrations. They’d been at it a year now, and Dean still wasn’t tired of the blinding bliss or the new ways they came up with to fuck it out of their systems. But Sammy wanted to talk and Cas wanted to sing, and even though Dean loved his mate’s voice, he wasn’t quite in the mood for a full grief break-down that Cas’s true song would throw at him.  
“And look what the cat dragged in.” Bobbicus rounded the open-plan lounge doorway with some random pieces of nerd junk in his hands. “Good to see you Dean. Say, have you met Sam’s new friend Nick?”  
This dude was the talk of the town it seemed.  
“Nope, but Sammy did want to talk to me about something. ‘S he here?” Dean shifted his wings over the arm of the couch and swung his legs over the seats.  
“No, they’re in the basement lookin’ at some stuff I found.” Bobbicus frowned. He seemed uneasy and when Bobbicus’ hunches went off, usually the alarm bells did too.  
“Well maybe we should call them up here. Say hi.” The tawny angel gave a perky little smile up at his foster father.  
“You call ‘em up. Some of us might be able to spend the entire day with another angel’s dick in their ass, but I’ve got work to do.” Bobbicus griped and Dean gaped after his retreating back.  
“Seriously? I fight wars – Well never mind. “ He broke off his protest with a pout and opened a channel up to Sam as he sat up because hell if he could be bothered moving.  
  
_Bro I’m back._  
_Oh sweet!_ Came the reply. _I’ve got a friend – Nick – with me but we’re just about done. Won’t be long!_  
Oh jeez. Attack of the nerds, here we come. After a few minutes, Dean heard the thud of footsteps on Bobbicus’ worn stairs and prepared himself to sit through a double geek-gasm about Bobbicus’ Chamber of Archaeological Secrets.  
“How’s the basement Sammy?” He looked over his shoulder at the giant moose angel, but it was his friend who caught Dean’s eye, and he immediately understood where Kevin and Bobbicus were coming from. Nick’s pale blue eyes were cold and dead, like a shark. There was an analytical element far, far beneath their surface, but they were otherwise unreadable. There was something about him too. Something that made Dean want to bow his head and look away; a feeling he hadn’t had since he’d yelled at Michael back when Cas was dying on the floor. Nick even looked far too good, somehow, like a dangerous serpent covered in beautiful patterns, but only for fleeting moments as though he were seeing Nick through cracks. Everything about him amped the fight response in Dean to the top notch, and it was all he could do to stay seated and keep his wings tensed behind his back. His Grace screamed to get Sam away from him for some reason.  
  
Dean barely heard Sam’s reply about it being ‘good’ and ‘Nick’s hella talented’ as he was caught up in trying to stare this freaky-ass dude down, away from his little brother. Nick just cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, but didn’t look away.  
“Something you want to say, Dean?” Nick gave a little pout. He’d have had to be deaf to have missed the mocking, fake concern in Nick’s voice, and to his shame he broke the gaze and looked at his brother. Sam had his eyebrows furrowed and looked between them.  
“Yeah…you look like you’ve seen a Knight of Hell or something.” Sam looked so confused it would have been funny if he wasn’t standing beside the damn creepiest angel in Heaven.  
“Sorry, long day.” Dean gave the fakest smile in his entire life.  
“Yeah, I bet.” Sam snorted, but how he didn’t realize he was practically brushing wings with a dude who looked like he had hollow pits for eyes, Dean had no idea.  
“Hey Sammy,” Nick shot Dean a smug glance, looked at Sam and leaned closer to him. A current of resentment swirled through Dean’s stomach; wasn’t he the only one allowed to call Sam that? But his little brother didn’t even frown. “I’ve got some…business to attend to. So why don’t you call me when you want me, huh partner?”  
And then that cold bastard stood up on his tip-toes and kissed Sam on the cheek. There was a whirl of Pantene-perfect hair from a shocked Sam and the clunk of a spring as Dean pretty much leaped off the couch, but Nick had already flapped out of Bobbicus’ space.  
  
  
“What the _hell_ was that?”  
Sam had no idea what Dean was getting all worked up about. A shimmer of elated excitement buzzed in the wake of the kiss - not the crazy heat, just excitement - and for a second there he’d wanted to screw Dean’s weird behaviour and follow Nick. The angel always seemed to leave a little sad pit in Sam’s stomach when he left, not to mention they should talk about Sam’s torn up feelings right now, although he didn't seem to be feeling the 'urge to mate' or whatever around the gold-winged angel.  
“What do you mean, ‘what the hell was that’, Dean?” He drew his head back in confusion and his eyebrows dipped toward each other. “You eyeball him the second he walks in the room and then tense like you’re about to whip out your angel blade! You’re lucky – and I’m glad – that he’s not afraid of that kind of display crap!”  
Dean glared, but Sam couldn’t care less. First Kevin and now Dean? What was wrong with them?  
“You’re _glad_ he isn’t afraid of that? Have you _looked_ at him lately?” Dean growled and a bolt of fury lanced down Sam’s spine.  
“What the hell do you mean by that, Dean?” He twitched his wings open an inch just to show how damn pissed off he was, but Dean matched to gesture.  
“He feels wrong, Sam, that’s all I’m saying. He’s got cold, dead eyes, and he’s a frickin perv, the way he kissed you like that!” Dean spat out and Sam’s jaw clenched hard. “And have you noticed how he’s just a little too good-looking? It’s creepy, man!”  
“You do realize what a load of bullshit you just spouted, right Dean?” Sam snapped back. Nick didn’t deserve this, hell, Nick had done _nothing_ wrong! The shallow insults Sam could let slide but ‘creepy’ and ‘perv’ were just plain uncalled for. “You know what, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think about him. He makes me happy, Dean, and you’re just jealous.”  
“Jealous? Did you see how he looked at me before he kissed you? Like he knew it would push my feathers up the wrong way!” Dean jabbed a finger at the ground to underpin his point. “He’s bad mojo, Sam – I can feel it, Kevin can feel it, Bobbicus can feel it. Hell, it sounds like half the Academy can feel it, but you’re just too caught up in his sleazy frickin charm…I didn’t even think you were into kissing!”  
  
A huge, protective viper raised its head inside Sam, and his Grace burned with rage at the injustice of it all. “You know what, screw you Dean. You don’t know him, Hell, you hardly know me after you spent years away at the Academy then hit the I’ll-Spend-Every-Waking-Moment-With-Castiel phase. You don’t need to look after me anymore, Dean, so stop trying to pretend I’m still the little kid angel who need to have their hand held when they fly.”  
Sam knew he’d hit the underside of the wing a few times there, but it was all true. He drew himself up to his full height as Dean’s face hardened.  
“Don’t you ever bring him here again.” Dean growled. “In fact, I don’t even want to hear about him being near you or – “  
“Or you’ll what, Dean?” Sam gave a derisive laugh, but his Grace wanted him to lash out, oh he wanted to punch Dean in his chiselled cheekbones so bad. “You’ll get your little bully squad back together and try and beat whatever you don’t like out of him? You’ll go crying to Castiel to save your widdle brother from an angel who’s done absolutely nothing wrong? You’ll lock me in my space? Grow up Dean.”  
  
Grace lit up Dean’s eyes and a thunderclap boomed above them as he spread out his tawny wings in Bobbicus’ small living room, but Dean was dreaming if he thought he could intimidate Sam into agreeing with him. The dark-haired angel stretched out his dappled grey wings and towered a good few inches above his older brother. How dare he believe he was right to the point of being undisputable? How dare he think he could control Sam? The windows burst in his rage, and lighting smashed down into the car yard outside. Dean may be a warrior, but Sam would bind him before he even got across the room and threw the first punch.  
“Hey, what the hell, ya idjits!” Bobbicus yelled as he stormed into the room, and the brothers let the thunder and lightning drop. “If you wanna fight, go wreck somebody else’s space while you do it.”  
He waved a sharp hand at the windows and the glass snapped back into place, but Sam didn’t tear his gaze away from his brother’s mutinous eyes.  
“You wanna go with him then fine.” Dean’s wings trembled with rage. “But you don’t come back here. You wanna take care of yourself, then go, but I don’t want to see you. And you certainly don’t come crawling back if he hurts your sorry ass, y’hear.”  
“Oh I hear you.” Sam felt nothing but poison towards his older brother right now. So Dean wanted to try to control him, to scare him into submission with the thought of being cut off from his big brother? Hell, he’d been cut off from Dean for years when he’d gone full asshole at the Academy of War. No difference. “And goodbye.”  
He beat his wings hard and as he soared away, he felt out for Nick with his mind. He needed him right now or else he might go down to Earth and create a tsunami from sheer rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( °٢° )  
> Typical Winchester break-up ay :P As always, I'd love to hear what you thought, and thanks to everyone who has left comment and kudos already, you're awesome! Next chapter from Luci! ;)  
> Also, if anyone can recommend my any good Samifer fanfic (preferably E rated coz I'm a dirty bro) that DOES NOT have non-con in it, I'd love you more n.n Cheers guuuys (*~▽~)


	6. I May Be Bad But I'm Perfectly Good At It

“Now don’t you try and run away or tattle-tale to any of your traitorous friends, because if you ruin my plans…” Lucifer loomed over Crowley’s lieutenant, the light playing on his face in a way that made his eyes glint like wicked blades within the gloom of his eye-sockets and threw shadows up his forehead that made it look like the Devil actually had horns. A cold, calm smile grew slow on his face. “I will make you live forever. And if you remember, the life of those who have betrayed me is fun for me, but not so much for you.”  
“Yes sir – Lord – Your Highness.” The thing grovelled. What Lucifer offered it was a mercy, much more than he’d given to any of its collaborators, especially that bean-pushing, usurper Crowley.  
“Good.” Lucifer clicked his fingers and two demons appeared beside the traitor. “Now you’re gonna go to my little green room and watch one of your little fellow conspirators taste a bit of the medicine you’ll be getting if you, mm, disappoint.”  
He waved a hand as a tug pulled through his Grace. The demons vanished and the tug became sharper – Sam. Sam was calling him. Lucifer grimaced, threw the disguise of ‘Nick’ back on and locked on to an inconspicuous part of Heaven. Sam was a danger. The rugged, grey-dappled angel had to be dealt with, but no part of Lucifer really wanted to harm him. More and more, he wanted to laugh with Sammy under the rainbow-blue light of Heaven, to spend his time with the tall, bronzed angel rather than scheming with demons. Being around Sam almost made him tired of ambition, and that was a good enough excuse to kill him as any. That horrific warmth welled up like blood in a wound, but Lucifer took the bitter ice inside himself and crushed it down. No. No matter how honest and gentle Sam was, no matter how attractive he was, the bottom-feeder angel was a tool and nothing more. When tools ran their course, they got discarded. 

Lucifer threw out a thought and constructed a kinda lazy industrial space to fill out Sam’s expectations. Another thing that bothered Lucifer about the younger angel was the taste of lust. Yesterday on the outskirts of Heaven there had been a heat the archangel had never experienced before, a desire that burned through his Grace as he’d moved his lips closer to Sam’s. It never gained purchase on his control, no, but its presence was enough for concern, even if it had vanished as suddenly as it had hit him. Lust he knew. Lust hardened in his groin and let his mind wander over every torturous height of pleasure he wanted to submit that bronzed muscular body to. Lust he had tasted, like a snake tastes heat, on Sam’s deliciously heady breath as they’d stood nose to nose under the stars. But whatever had touched his Grace in that lightning moment was a mutation of lust, perhaps, something deep that even Lucifer was unsure whether he could control. Both doubt and unrestraint were things he couldn’t afford, and no matter how much Sam made him smile, no matter how warm the tall angel made him feel, or comfortable or purely happy… Sam had to go.  
_Nick, now. Or I don’t know what I’m going to do._  
A barely restrained grunt came through Lucifer’s head and it drove all the schemes of a quiet disappearance for the tall angel out of his head for now. Mmm, Sammy sounded on edge, and Lucifer just couldn’t let up on this scrumptious opportunity to push the usually-gentle angel over. Violence, passion, greed, hatred…he wanted any and every part of whatever precipice Sam dangled across.  
_Here._  
Lucifer gave a gentle, understanding lilt to his voice and sat down in the metal chair. He shrank the room so that it would just contain Sam’s wingspan, tossed a long, hard-edged mirror on one side and considered the high ceiling with interest. They could work with this. There was the thud of those priceless little virgin wings and the shaggy-haired angel appeared by the far, factory-typical door. A relieved sensation glowed in Lucifer for a second, but was overwhelmed by the sight before him. 

Wooowie. Lucifer couldn’t help but shift his disguised archangel wings with delight to settle the tingle of licentious excitement: Sam was a gorgeous melting pot of passion. Fury sparked red around him in an aura that Lucifer could see and his usually-mellow eyes were hard and burned like fire. Those defined muscles and clear-cut jaw were tensed so rigid that a tick worked in Sam’s cheek, and this new strain of darkness, this untapped well of cruelty Lucifer saw in him sent a throb of delight straight to his cock...mmm, Satan embraced the desire. Sam wasn’t leaving this space with his virginity, that was for sure, even if the Lord of Temptation had to use every debased, dirty technique in his own book to get the other angel hot under the collar.  
“Sam, what’s wrong?” Lucifer stood, concern on his face. Hot, sexy angel ire aside, he was curious as to how Sam had gotten into this delicious state. Maybe his little trick with Dean had blossomed into something more.  
“I…” Sam’s fist clenched, his eyes flashed and the familiar rush of hot lust raced up Lucifer’s stomach, but he didn’t try to quell it. No, today they’d be partners in crime as they were so often. “Dean, my older brother. He thinks he can control me, he thinks he can say whatever the hell he likes about you, he – “  
The tall angel broke off in anger and Lucifer sidled closer. He wanted it, he wanted all of Sam’s fury and fire as much as he basked in the grey-dappled angel’s warm words.  
  
The archangel reached over, slid a gentle hand over Sam’s shoulder and let his fingers trail down the exposed bicep. He then began to wander behind those innocent, pretty wings like a shark around prey.  
“Tell me, Sam. You can tell me everything.” He murmured, the distraction of his eyes echoed in his voice as his cock rose to attention, hard and ready to fuck this bronzed beauty senseless. Sam’s wings wouldn’t even have their protective battle-screen. So easy to just reach out and touch…but not yet. Not until Sam submitted to him.  
“Dean thinks he’s this indisputable force just because he’s my older brother. Like that gives him some sort of power over me, some sort of control.” Sam spat and despite all his external masks, Lucifer felt his plight. Dean sounded exactly like Michael when Lucifer questioned their father. A blind brick wall of stubborn and arrogance.  
“Dean’s the warrior angel, isn’t he? The one who helped command the victory over the Hellgate.” Lucifer found the back of Sam’s other shoulder and leaned so close that his lips brushed the thin material of Sam’s shirt as he spoke. The Devil ran his fingers down that strong arm and saw Sam swallow. Excellent. “But you…they say you stood toe to toe with Michael and won, Sammy. _You_ saved the day, not Dean. He owes you more than this.”  
  
Satan could’ve cut the tension with a knife. Sam’s wings twitched as Lucifer brought his own within a centimetre of the other angel’s. The stiffness in his jeans ached with the steadily a growing throb in his Grace – the normal kind of Grace-arousal, not that strange, wild heat from the other time. But Lucifer had created temptation. It would never get the better of him unless he wanted it to. And he wanted Sam, but he wanted Sam torn apart by desire, wretched and begging before they were sated. He could taste it. In the air around the dark-haired angel, Lucifer could taste the blend of anger and lust in a hurricane of passion. Delicious.  
“You’re damn right he does.” Sam growled and half turned to face the archangel. Tingles fled down Lucifer’s huge wings, but he didn’t let his inner smug smirk reveal itself. Sam wanted him. He wanted him bad and the knowledge made Lucifer’s cock so hard he almost groaned. It made Lucifer want to give it to him until he begged for mercy.  
“Don’t let him control you Sammy.” Lucifer slid closer and put a light, pointed finger on the other angel’s chest. His own Grace swirled and hummed in anticipation; it hadn’t got off on the Grace of another angel for too many years, and now Sam was right here… 

The archangel leaned up closer, eyes half-lidded as he hovered a few inches from Sam’s face. He could taste the heat of the other angel from here and could almost feel the sparks of sensation that zinged down Sam’s unsullied grey wings, pretty as a clouded mare. Lucifer’s wings. Because he’d be the first to touch them, tease them, stroke them into a chaotic, desecrated mess. “Don’t let anyone control you, y’hear?”  
Sam’s hands settled on his hips as Satan barely whispered his nose up Sam’s jaw. The younger angel’s breath was rough and ragged in his ear as he dangled on the brink of the precipice. Lucifer knew the exact moment he fell. Those thumbs by the Devil’s hip-bones dug in just a little harder and Sam’s teeth bared as though he were in pain.  
“Nick…” The coarse pant in his ear tried to be restrained, but all the beautiful chords of surrender let Lucifer take in a deep breath of satisfaction over the heavy streaks of desire that lanced down his chest. Fire burned on his skin at the tips of Sam’s fingers, and he wanted to mould himself against this creature, press their needy, hot bodies together and climb all over his tall, tanned angel. Lucifer's wings wanted to snap out of their disguise, spread open in full, shining, archangel white glory in a display that’d impress and arouse even the most prude angel, but Lucifer didn’t allow it. Despite all the sensations, he was in control, and one little act of lust wasn’t going to reveal his true self to any angel in Heaven, even Sam. 

Sam’s hot breath rasped in his ear, as though he were trying to pull himself back, save himself from sin, but he never stood a chance. Lucifer reached under one of Sam’s arms and curled his nails into a powerful shoulder blade. The other angel made a noise of frustration that oh-so-nearly bordered on a moan, and then Lucifer’s eyes flew wide in a split second of surprise as Sam gathered their bodies together roughly with one muscular arm and bit into the Devil’s neck hard. Lucifer let out an indulgent gasp that might have made a porn star blush, gripped a hand into Sam’s perfect, muscular ass cheek and ground against the hard – hell Sam was hard! (and proportionate to his height too, Lucifer noticed with a smirk) – erection in front of him. The mouth on his neck didn’t stay still for a moment; Sam kissed and bit and licked up to Lucifer’s jaw, and the blonde archangel turned and caught those greedy little lips with his own. His Grace reared into life as he tasted Sam’s essence on his tongue and the grey dappled angel gave an unruly moan into the Devil’s mouth. This felt different to the other angels he’d had; there was something about Sam that just tasted better, the lure of this pure young thing being tainted by lust made his wings so sensitive and his Grace hungered to touch Sam’s even through his mouth. 

But Lucifer had no plans to let Sam off that easy any time soon. From the hot pulse of Sam’s body against him, Satan knew the taller angel felt the reaction in his own Grace, but by the wild movements of the younger angel’s body it was too easy to tell that Sam had never had his essence and body stimulated and didn’t know how to handle it.  
Even at the thought of how – how _ravishable_ Sam was made Lucifer give a hungry little growl and he bit the other angel’s lip with bruising force.  
Then Satan made a little high noise of surprise and indignation as he was hauled off his feet and around Sam’s hips, but Sam seemed to be too far gone to notice; his hard, long dick fucked up in clumsy thrusts against Lucifer’s thighs and crotch through the constraints of his jeans. But as delicious as this was, as sweet this moment of victory tasted, this young angel needed to be put in his place.  
Lucifer tangled his fingers in Sam’s mane of brown hair through the rough rhythm of the other angel’s desperation and tore his lips away. He shoved a small part of his eager archangel Grace into his right hand and slapped Sam hard across the cheek. The tall angel’s wanton moan bounced off the walls of the small space, and Lucifer felt a violent spasm jerk through the younger angel’s body as his Grace crackled up towards the spot. Sam’s hands slipped and Lucifer pounced on the opportunity. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he smacked the other side of Sam’s sculpted face with the back of his Grace-infused hand and Sam’s eyes rolled as he hit the wall, hips twitching against nothing, hands scrabbling against the suface behind him in an attempt to keep himself steady.  
  
Oh fuck that was too pretty. A tidal wave of fire burned up to Lucifer’s eyes, but lust still didn’t master him. He sent the Grace out of his hand and caught the younger angel’s throat. Sam gave a lurching gasp of surprise and clawed at his forearm for a moment as his legs stuttered on the concrete floor. Lucifer kept his hand tight to restrict the sensation of Sam’s Grace and moved up right beside the other angel, whose hand balled in his shirt.  
“Calm down, Sammy.” He snaked out his tongue and licked the curve of the tanned angel’s ear in one swipe. “Can you do that for me?”  
Sam gave a choked moan, and Satan tightened his grip.  
“Don’t make me bitch slap you again.” He muttered and those lazy brown eyes turned to him with a silent plea. Oohhoohoo, This one liked it! A smirk curved up Lucifer’s lip, and Sam must have seen the wicked glint in his eye because he relaxed a little against the wall, eyes wide, but not with shock…with trust. Good. Because until he was done here, he wouldn’t hurt a hair on this beautiful young angel’s head that Sam didn’t want him to hurt. After though…the King of Sin should have recognized a lie when he told it to himself, but the burn in his Grace didn’t let him muse on much for long.  
“Shirt off. Shoes and socks too.” Lucifer snapped and released Sam’s throat. He turned and conjured a chain from the ceiling which branched off into two chains at a ring. When Lucifer was sure it was at a height that would barely allow Sam to brush the floor with his toes, he dissolved his own shirt and footwear.  
“Nick…” Sam’s husky voice shivered slightly and Lucifer closed his eyes for a second in delight as a big man-paw stroked in a blissful delicate touch down his feathers like a question. Mmm, it had been too long and today his wings seemed even more receptive…

Emboldened fingernails scratched down the outer quills and a surprised ‘huh’ of pleasure left his lips as intense sensation burst outward from where the pads of Sam’s fingers met his wings. Lucifer gave a muted groan but twitched them away; even that much stimulation had almost ripped them out of their disguise. This wasn’t good; Lucifer’s wings had never had this response to anyone’s touch like this before, and if Sam persisted they would be uncontrollable.  
So Satan spun around, grabbed a handful of Sam’s wonderful hair and nipped with Grace-infused teeth into the sweet spot of the younger angel’s bare shoulder so hard that it almost drew blood.  
“Ah!” Sam gave a surprised shout and his head jerked up. Strong arms reached around to pull Lucifer closer, but he’d had enough of this tame foreplay. He grabbed one of those arms, gave a beat of his still trembling, electrified wings and dragged the other angel up toward the padded cuffs on the end of the chains with easy archangel strength. Before Sam had time to protest, he’d trussed him up good and proper.  
“Now you are going to stay nice and still for me.” Lucifer smirked and took the time to admire his lover’s suspended, half-naked form.  
He was as well-built as the hints from the clothing had provided; long, elegant limbs, bronze muscles rose and fell in delicious ridges and a line of soft hair tempted down toward under the low curve of his belt. Strung up like this, the dimples in his shoulders were visible from the sides, where his wings were held a little out from his body, and the line of his spine arched from a broad chest to a slender waist in the perfect V. Mmm, _he_ would have struggled to create such a tempting thing. 

Now Lucifer was so glad he’d thrown in the mirror; he could watch every spasm and shudder those muscles gave, never mind these demure little wings. Tall, elegant, albatross-like and twitching with the need to be deflowered. A wicked glint flickered in his eyes.  
“Spread your wings, Sam.” He kept his voice nice and calm, even though it was getting harder and harder to stay in that space. The impatience of his sex-starved Grace lashed out against his will with more violence than Lucifer had ever felt, but he was in control.  
Sam’s breath huffed hot and fast, his eyes wide with shock at his predicament, but obeyed. His body had begun to shake and Lucifer drank it all in with ravenous eyes.  
“Nick p – “  
“Now don’t you beg Sammy. Not yet.” With the cruel curiosity of a cat with a mouse, Lucifer reached up and ran his fingers down those soft, dappled feathers. Sam gave a ragged cry and his whole suspended body jerked. Again and again, he yanked against the chains, those strong hips thrust up against nothing as Lucifer teased him, and fuck did the Devil get off on his struggle. He licked his lips as his groin throbbed with the excitement of such a young, innocent little creature in his grasp, that had willingly given itself over to be utterly ravaged. And Sam was going to get the full Five Star treatment today, oh yes.  
  
Lucifer carded his fingers through these soft feathers, eyes hot with just how untouched they were. Sam thrashed, his toes curled against the floor, he tossed his head back against the sides of his taught arms, teeth bared, but to his credit he never tried to snap these little beauties shut. Mmm, they quivered so smooth and new underneath Lucifer’s fingers that it was a huge press of will not to ignore the needs of Sam and his own Grace and just spend hours teasing and thoroughly taking their virginity one feather at a time. He did consider it, but then again the intensity might become painful for Sam and not in the fun way.  
So Lucifer paid attention to all the feathers he could, especially those delicious inner ones that had Sam screaming his sobriquet. Lucifer had gone by a hundred names before and would do so again, and they all sounded just as sweet when screamed in pleasure or pain.

“Shhhshhshh.” Lucifer ran a gentle hand up and down the small of Sam’s back and noted with a smirk that the front of the other angel’s jeans was soaked with mating lubricant over the significant bulge. Sam gave a shaking sob and his hair hung over that rugged face. What a shame. Lucifer reached up and tucked it behind the other angel’s ears. Drugged-looking brown eyes slid to him, and even so overwhelmed, Lucifer noted a spark of defiance in them. Now that was just delightful. Most angels would have lowered their eyes in submission long before now, even if they had been able to look at him in the first place.  
“How…You…” Sam panted, but the Devil simply slid his palms up the curve of that slender waist then down again. The tall angel’s breath hitched and his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, then flew wide as Lucifer slid his fingers along Sam’s belt.  
“That was a nice warm up, now wasn’t it Sammy?” Satan hooked his finger under the piece of Sam’s belt within the buckle and tugged it out. The grey-dappled angel gave a short groan of disbelief as another quiver lanced through his defined musculature. As he slid Sam’s jeans down, Lucifer leaned forward and took the nub of one hard nipple in his mouth. The suspended angel shuddered again and hot, shocked gasps left his lips, then gave a violent jerk and cry as Lucifer sent a spark of Grace to his tongue. But they could play with that a little later.  
“Unh, you bastard.” Sam’s protest huffed out as Lucifer left him untouched again.  
  
Satan smirked, sank to one knee and tugged Sam’s jean’s fully off. He trailed Grace-lit fingers from Sam’s feet, over his hard calves and up his thighs as the tall angel bucked and swung slightly from his own vigorous spasms, teeth bared against the noises that tried to rip out of his throat. Those eyes flickered with blue and they’d barely even gotten started!  
“Mmm, someone’s excited.” Lucifer murmured more to himself than to Sam, and unhooked the other angel’s damp briefs from that proud, red cock. He couldn’t be bothered pulling them off, so he just waved them into nonexistence. Sam’s breath hissed, then transformed into a ragged shout as Lucifer ran the Grace in his fingers up that throbbing member.  
“No, no, no, pl – “  
“No begging, Sam!” Lucifer turned and smacked that tight ass with such force that the sound rebounded across the room. The noise Sam made was downright pornographic and sent a pulse of sudden heat through the Devil’s responsive wings. Lucifer realized his own cock was just as desperate and leaking as Sam’s. It throbbed hot and needy against his iron will for a moment with the swirling fire that embodied his Grace, and he dragged rough nails down Sam’s side to steady himself. No. Temptation was _his_ bitch, not the other way around.  
“Again.” Sam gulped his voice hoarse. “You want me not to beg then – “  
He broke off into another indulgent cry as Lucifer didn’t even let him finish his defiant little sentence and slapped a hand electrified with Grace onto Sam’s other ass cheek. Lucifer could _hear_ the crackle of Sam’s Grace, and a blue line lit up his skin, but the hand was well gone before it reached the spot. A prickle of heat danced up Lucifer’s chest and neck at the sight; he’d never, in all his billions of years, seen Grace react as beautifully as that. Hmm. They definitely needed to play with this more. 

Lucifer waved his hand, and Sam gave a high gasp of surprise as he found his legs locked apart with a spreader bar and chained in place. The Devil ran that cruel hand up the inside of his thigh to just brush that wet entrance, and delighted in the full-body shudder he elicited. Sam’s cock spasmed under its sheen of lubrication and for a second, Lucifer wanted to drop the tease and just suck it off, rough and unrestrained. But that would be over far too fast.  
“You’re beautiful Sam.” He looked up at those wide brown eyes. “Mmm, you’re so beautiful.”  
“Take the rest of your clothes off, you son-of-a-bitch.” Sam panted and Lucifer’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. Then again, the thought of Sam calling God a bitch was just wonderful.  
“Are you telling me what to do, Sammy?” Lucifer let the dark, lascivious hunger in his Grace simmer in the undertone of his words, but otherwise kept his old friend lust at bay as he lent a calm, small zap of Grace to the other angel’s nipple. Sam made a harsh, restrained noise through bared teeth, but his eyes glared with defiance.  
“I have a special punishment for that.” He conjured up a diamond-braided flogger with knotted ends and sent an experimental pulse of Grace to all of its strands. Perfect. Sam’s body tensed and his eyes flew wide. The tall angel struggled against his bonds in some sort of attempt to relieve the heat in his body, the unforgiving pressure Lucifer knew had built up in his Grace. But Third-Generation vs archangel power? He didn’t think so. No, Sam was strung up there until Lucifer, from the kindness of his heart, let him down. And last he checked, kindness had never been one of his strong suits.

 

Sam on the other hand, could barely see, barely think about what this adorable, quirky little angel had suddenly pulled on him. Even Dean’s descriptions bore _nothing_ on what this gold-winged _sadist_ was doing, how intense and incredible the pleasure was, how everything burned and burned and burned, how his wings had become elements of sheer bliss under Nick’s fingers. 

The blonde angel paced back behind him and Sam’s head was torn. Oh fuck he wanted to be hit again, by the flogger, by Nick’s hands, he didn’t care, but then he felt as though his Grace would go nuclear if he didn’t get satisfaction soon. Then a hand snapped onto his sit spots, and he could _feel_ the oh-so-good sting of Nick’s Grace on his skin. Sam gave a uncontrollable, ecstatic cry as his own Grace lanced toward the spot like a bolt of blissful lightning, but then screamed inside him in frustration as it found the places empty. It was out of control. He was out of control, or maybe mad would have been a better word. No matter how hard he strained against the chains – not even angel-binding chains! – there was no escape, not matter how much his wings spasmed and beat, he couldn’t fly out of the cuffs, no matter how much he shouted and begged (or tried to), Nick wouldn’t satisfy him.  
Then half the skin on his lower back exploded with the irresistible electricity, in a hundred small spots as that Grace-imbued flogger smacked into his skin. Sam's whole body tried to curl in on itself in delight as his essence swarmed through him, and he gave a coarse scream of both exasperation and blind pleasure, but Nick didn’t let him recover for even a second. The sparking ends whipped off his lower back and cracked back down on the outer feathers of his wings and Sam’s eyes lit up blue as he cried far too loud, unable to even articulate words. Again and again and again, non-stop, that cruel, wonderful thing smattered down over his back, thighs, wings, ass, chest, groin and Sam just let himself go into the sensation as the sounds of his own perverse pleasure and pain echoed around the small room. His Grace didn’t know what to do with itself; it charged in sheets of ecstatic fire through Sam’s body and wings until every inch of him seared, and he glowed with its power and fury. His skin shook and the whole of his body thrashed and jolted the chains, while his wings smacked the air and any wall they could reach in desperation. A scream tore from Sam’s throat as he made the mistake of revealing his sensitive underside to Nick’s whip, and the burst of Grace in his eyes blinded him for a second as his head spasmed upward as though he had come right there and then. 

The hits stopped and all Sam could hear was his own moans and the _smat_ of lubrication that dripped off his hard cock to the concrete floor. He’d hardly noticed how it throbbed and ached through the sweet torture of his Grace. Tears made wet tracks into his stubble, and a line of liquid trickled down his leg from his entrance at the back. Hell, he’d never cried in all his life as an angel, but now his cheeks were thick with it. Sam had no clue whether it was from pain, pleasure or from having his control ripped so violently from him, but they weren’t a bad thing.

“Look at me Sammy.” Nick’s voice lilted and Sam hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes. It took him a few tries, but was glad when he succeeded; Nick had unbuckled his belt and was in the act of sliding his jeans to the floor. Sam noted with a weak chuckle that didn’t even make it out of his throat, that Nick went commando. Of course he did. Why was that so weird and funny? Sam had no clue. His head and Grace were dizzy with fire and desperation, and he almost felt drunk. A thankfully Grace-less hand patted his cheek.  
“You still with me Sammy? I don’t want you to miss this.” There was something dark in Nick’s eyes but Sam loved it, Sam wanted it, he didn’t care if the other angel beat him into an unconscious mess.  
“Yeah.” The word dropped hoarse from his mouth and another shudder fled through his Grace at even that small touch on his cheek.  
“Good boy.” Those gorgeous lips curved up and the hand dragged down his chest. Nails caught on his nipple and an unbidden moan choked out of the tall angel at the sharp pleasure. His Grace swirled and slammed down the trail of Nick’s hand, which slid down his abs, then took an exasperating turn toward his hip bone. The again, Sam would probably burn up if Nick touched his cock, Grace or no.  
  
In the mirror, he watched with drooping lids as the blonde angel reached up between his wings. He seemed to be holding…  
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Sam gasped and snapped to attention as something clipped on to a dimple near the base of his left wing and began to vibrate, then was matched by the right side. His wings sprang out and he couldn’t close them.  
“Oh fuck!” Sam pretty much yelled and his hips jerked again and again against air. That spot shot ecstasy through his feathers until they vibrated so hard that the hollow sound of quills filled the air. A very undignified sound left his lips, but Sam had given up any façade of propriety long ago. He writhed in suspension, tried to pull his legs together, but the unreasonably strong bar between them wouldn’t let him. Sam’s whole body, his whole essence shuddered and couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop writhing as whatever the fuck Nick had clipped on to his wings hummed in a sweet pulsation into that freakin spot.  
“Oh I think you can get more creative than that.” Nick paced back around and raised his eyebrows. Sam could hardly meet his eyes through the spasms that wracked his body, but when he did so, he filled them with the wild hunger of his Grace. He wanted Nick in him, around him, part of him, he didn’t care. But the gold-winged angel _somehow_ still didn’t give in and flicked a finger.  
Sam screamed. He threw his head back and screamed and screamed as the vibrations upped about a million degrees, so intense, and the things burrowed so close to the over-sensitive membrane of his wing. He twisted in the bonds, struggled, and his Grace boiled, but there was nothing to satisfy it, so it smashed against the side of his body closest to Nick, but even the pain of its clawing couldn’t match the blinding sensation in his wings. 

Then the things hummed down to a barely-there buzz and Sam caught sight himself in the mirror; his wings had spread into a position that would make Lucifer blush, his whole, shaking body shone bright white-blue from crown to toes, his cock jutted out twitching and drenched from his body, and sharp red lines stood stark against his skin where Nick had whipped him. Tears and saliva glistened on his own dazed face; he looked like the debauched mess he swore he’d never become, but he’d given up that hope long ago. This was too good, no matter how much he’d like to deny it to himself. 

Nick’s eyes seared over him, and Sam swore that he saw a sheen of red for a moment.  
“Screaming does it too.” The sadistic bastard murmured and paced behind Sam. Then fingers teased Sam’s entrance and he sucked in a shuddering breath of air at the prospect of Nick being inside of him, the prospect of release. His ass was just as wet as his cock, so two – three – fingers slid into Sam’s shaking body just fine. Sam gave a luxurious groan of satisfaction; at first it was just the sensation of something inside him, the deep need his body to be filled. For a moment, Nick just let him enjoy the dull buzz of the ring of sensitive muscle being teased and the push of another angel inside of him. Then a pulse of Grace shot from Nick’s fingers straight into his essence and Sam lit up like a frickin Christmas tree.  
“Yes!” The dark-haired angel shouted and wrenched himself upwards on the handcuffs as his whole body arched into the sensation. How, how could Nick do that? Sam couldn’t send his own Grace toward Nick’s fingers; it writhed and burned a little further in, waiting for Nick to push himself deeper. But the sadist didn’t, fuck he didn’t, and the frustration almost tore Sam apart. He tried to roll his hips back, but the bastard just moved with him. Then another tiny taste of satisfaction zapped from those horrible fingers into Sam’s essence and his body thrummed with deep bliss. He gave a harsh grunt as the pleasure from the things still buzzing gently in his wings coiled with this new kind of ecstasy, which transformed into a broken cry as another bolt of Grace lanced through his own.  
  
Sam didn’t know what to do with himself. Sensation lit him up from the inside out, deeper, far more serious than anything before. It started new judders up his thighs and out his tormented wings, and with every flick of the other angel’s Grace a new noise broke out his throat.  
“Oh Sam, you feel so good.” For the first time Nick’s voice crept high with desire, and then Sam gave a yell of frustration as he pulled the fingers out. His legs shook like leaves in protest and the world blurred for a moment as his Grace howled like a tornado inside him, teased beyond anything Sam had thought possible.  
“No, Nick – “ He broke off the shout before he made the mistake of begging and jerked his body back toward the other angel. His neck twisted as he tried to look at Nick, he gave a roar of frustration at the emptiness inside him, he yanked and pulled at his bonds as his eyes shone bright blue and chips of stone chinked down from the ceiling. 

There was a whoosh of wings and Nick flew up in front of him, teeth gritted in impossible restraint, but his eyes glinted with Grace. Fuck his body was perfect. Fuck Sam needed him. He glared up at the other angel, teeth bared in wild, animalistic ferocity as pleasure from his wings shuddered though him again and his Grace went white-hot. Any loose furniture flew across the room and the small window in the door shattered in the shockwave of his lost control. Without breaking his gaze, Nick reached up, grasped the chain between both his hands and secured his knees under Sam’s arms. Without even being told, the tall angel lunged forward and swallowed the cock in front of him right down to the base and Nick’s shocked cry of pleasure was music to Sam’s ears.  
Then he felt it. Oh _fuck_. Nick’s Grace plunged into him, and he’d never expected the sensation to be so powerful. It burst through his own Grace like a nuclear bomb and every part of Sam’s existence lit up with pleasure so violent he wasn’t sure how he even survived.  
“Sam – S –ungh!” A high noise broke out of Nick’s throat and Sam could feel the angel try to pull out, but he wasn’t having any of it. He ached to have his arms free and just pull Nick closer, but a creative tongue would have to do. The gold-winged angel gave a shocked, shuddering cry that spiked delight down Sam’s stomach, so strong that it didn’t get drowned out by the ecstatic war of their Graces.

In the mirror, he caught a glimpse of Nick’s achingly beautiful body rolling like a stripper on a pole as he fucked deeper into Sam’s throat, feathers stretched out and vibrating in a way that made Sam’s head light and his primordial instincts coil in dark pleasure to match that in his wings and essence. The blonde angel’s head had tipped back and his gorgeous mouth fell open in a slack oval as he bucked his hips without restraint into Sam’s mouth. _Fuck._

All outward concentration was lost as shockwaves from those quick thrusts exploded within him. All he could feel was Nick’s Grace inside him, overpowering him, burning him with impossible bliss from inside out, and Sam cried and shouted and moaned like a whore around the cock in his mouth. His body and wings writhed with such violence that the chains clanked as they jerked in the air. The sensation of restraint, the fact that his body couldn’t curl inward or his limbs lurch in some vain attempt at relief just amplified everything and Sam could do was claw at the shackles above him as Nick's Grace filled every corner of him and still pushed for more, pushed them tighter against one another.  
“Come for me, Sam, come for me!” Nick snarled and fucked him harder. Another pulse of impossibly strong Grace shattered through Sam’s senses and streaked ecstasy up every atom of his shuddering essence. Sam screamed around member inside him. Holy fire shot in pillars out of his eyes and engulfed Nick’s cock as his Grace burst with energy. The shockwaves of it slammed through him again and again, and he couldn’t even feel his outer body anymore, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. There was just bliss and bliss and bliss until his Grace couldn’t handle the sheer amount of sensation and he collapsed into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the bucket of ice water lol. ;) I had to draw height diagrams to make sure Luci could reach Sam haha. And when angels say creative tongue, they _mean_ creative tongue (you’ll hear about it next chapter ayy). Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far, and I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! :D  
>  Here's a picture of bath Satan because everyone deserves bath Satan. (=゜ω゜)  
> 


	7. The Taste Of Poison

Lucifer shuddered on top of Sam as gasps and moans of pleasure tumbled out of his mouth. Sparks danced in his vision. He’d come (and holy fuck, he’d come), but had hung onto just enough control to keep the space from ripping apart and sending a locator beacon to any angel in a hundred miles that he was here. Sam hadn’t been so lucky. The bonds had disintegrated with Lucifer’s release and dropped them both unceremoniously onto the floor.

“ _Shit_ , Sam.” Lucifer mumbled. He knew his lover had passed out – the Devil would’ve been insulted if he hadn’t with that amount of stimulation – but he shuffled his own body down and collapsed on that broad chest. That was the best orgasm he’d had in his ancient life, and _that was saying something._ His Grace still reeled with it and every sense spun with the incredible ecstasy. Who was this angel? How did his Grace do this to him, to one of the most powerful archangels in existence? But his head blurred all logical thought with afterglow, and the weakness should have terrified him, but it didn’t. It was all just too good.

“Mmm.” Lucifer sighed with content. His wings still spasmed, cramped and bent in the small space; he hadn’t been able to keep them in their disguise, but that didn’t matter. They’d be easy enough to hide when Sam woke up.  
Satan trailed a finger down a reddened pockmark on Sam’s chest from the flogger with a lazy smirk. It’d take Sam a while to heal from injuries inflicted by archangel Grace, and the thought of the geek angel wandering around with fucking whip marks made Lucifer smile even wider. That’d shock Dean into another tiff. No, he hadn’t intended for the brothers to get _so_ nasty, but hey, it had worked out in his favour, it seemed. Lucifer let out another little indulgent moan as his Grace gave a shiver. Looked like Sam was sticking around, because sex like that couldn’t be given up that easy, hell… Lucifer nuzzled up the taller angel’s tear-soaked stubble in a very bad, unenergetic attempt to nudge him awake. How Sam had even lived through being pounded by top-tier archangel Grace, Lucifer had no idea. Usually he’d pull out some of his partner’s Grace as the other angel climaxed and stimulate himself, or not allow himself to fully lose himself to sensation and hold his lover together with his own power, or even fuck them to death if that’s what he wanted. But Sam had just felt too good, the way he’d swallowed him down straight into the hot bind of his Grace…Lucifer had tried to pull out when he realized just how bad he was going to let go, he had, but then Sam had pulled a fucking dirty trick that Lucifer had _never_ expected from the innocent little puppy-eyed bastard; he’d elongated his tongue and wrapped it around Lucifer’s cock. Satan made another little noise at the memory that he would _so_ be reliving. 

He lay there for a while, and something Lucifer recognized as a glint of worry worked itself through his bliss as Sam still didn’t wake up. Ugh. He was too out of it to reprimand himself for an emotion as unnecessary as worry. Surely he could wake this sleeping beauty up? The Devil sat up with a luxurious stretch, contained his white archangel wings again and gave his lover a half-hearted poke.  
“Sam? Sammy.” He frowned and made his finger spark with electricity. This time when he poked Sam’s abused nipple, the dark-haired angel bolted upright so fast that he almost head butted the archangel that straddled him.  
“Ouch.” Sam kinda whined then collapsed back onto the floor again.  
“Wakey wakey, sunshine.” Lucifer gave a perky smile and splayed his hands across Sam’s wonderfully firm pecs. Usually he wouldn’t stick around for the post-coitus chat, but since Sam had given him such incredible pleasure and since he felt so comfortable and kinda happy around the grey-dappled angel, he’d give it a shot.  
“Uhnmm, Nick?” Sam gave a slow blink, then rubbed his eyes. “What the hell. I mean…what…how…mm.”  
He reached up lazy arms and Lucifer let himself be pulled back against the taller angel’s chest. Sam was so warm, and it had been eons since Lucifer had actually been held. That stupid glow pooled in his stomach, but Lucifer didn’t even have enough energy to be mad at it. So he snuggled his cheek into Sam’s shoulder and just breathed in his scent. One warm arm curled over his shoulders, just above his wings, and the other slung loose around his waist. Sam tucked his nose against the curve of Lucifer’s shoulder and the Devil felt those pretty lips press absently on the skin there. There was nothing very sexual about it, something warmer and deeper than that, and Lucifer buried his face and his fear of what he knew that emotion was in Sam’s neck. They lay there for so long in a deep, comfortable silence that for some reason seemed even more intimate than sex, and neither of them seemed willing to break that bubble. Lucifer had no clue what to feel – afraid, weak, happy – so he just lay still in the moment and let the sensations wash over him. 

Just as Lucifer thought Sam had dropped out of consciousness again, the younger angel gave a sleepy groan and turned to look at him.  
“Of all the things I expected outta you, that wasn…was not one of them.” Sam slurred a little and his honest hazel eyes were hooded by lids that threatened to fall.  
“I aim to surprise.” Lucifer’s lip quirked up and he slid his palm over Sam’s cheek.  
“Well you fucking surprised me.” Sam gave a huff of laughter and just about pressed their noses together. “Where’d you learn that? I didn’t think Heaven had an Academy of Bondage.”  
“Their loss.” Lucifer smiled a little more. Hell had an equivalent of course. Mandatory first-year demon stuff. “No, Sam, not every angel is the same. I have my hobbies.”  
This time Sam really did laugh and it sent that stupid warmth up Lucifer’s chest. “And yours is hot sex, let me guess.”  
“I don’t know how you do it, Sammy. You must be psychic.” Lucifer drew a little circle over the muscular shoulder his head didn’t rest on.  
“Mmm, I was actually really afraid that if I, y’know, mated, that it’d become addictive.” Sam sighed and his fingers played on the sensitive base of Lucifer’s spine. “But it doesn’t feel that way. It’s odd.”  
“Odd?” Lucifer reached up and tugged a lock of Sam’s hair out from behind his ear.  
  
It was almost funny how innocent Sam was. Then again, big bro Michael never really did go for sex-ed in angel high-school. In fact Lucifer was surprised Sam knew about sex at all; most angels were neither mentally built for it, being mainly asexual, nor did most of them approve. It seemed, while he’d been in the Cage, some sort of angelic reproduction had taken place to create the younger generations of angels, but Satan didn’t really know how that worked. That was weird, given his semi-omnipresence. Hmm. He should probably investigate that one after his plan came to completion.  
“Unless you’ve got one of those personalities, sex isn’t usually addictive. Fun, yep. But addiction is for people with no self-control, Sammy.” Lucifer looked up at the dark-haired angel from under his lashes.  
“Huh.” Sam’s face read ‘fair enough’ and his fingers settled into Lucifer’s hair. Mmm. If archangels could purr, Lucifer would have done so.  
“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to have you again and again and again…” Lucifer added the silky tone of seduction to his voice, eyes lazy as he caught Sam’s. He’d have to figure a way around how much power he emitted when he orgasmed. Heaven was a Russian roulette of whether or not anyone found out. On Earth, he’d probably take out a mountain. Hell would be the ideal place, but that’d kind of be a huge, neon flashing arrow pointing at his true nature. Ugh. Russian roulette then.  
“But you want to though. You don’t _need_ to?” Sam’s question made Lucifer frown slightly. Why would…then the Devil noted that whoever had taught Sam about sex seemed to be misinformed.  
“Of course.” True, his wings and Grace had been far more responsive with Sam and it did seem a little dangerous, considering his position. But he’d been in control. And Lucifer certainly wasn’t afraid to fuck Sam again just in case he fell over into recklessness, no. He trusted his own will and he knew fear was a kind of restraint he couldn’t afford, even in one area of life. 

Lucifer raised himself up over the angel beneath him on his forearms and considered him. Sam seemed the most simple of angels; some Academy of Lore nerd, Third Generation, average Grace power, no huge ambition…but there were things that even Lucifer didn’t understand about him. Usually Lucifer would have found such a large, gentle creature sickly sweet, but in some ways it made him even more exciting when he fell into passion. Why did Sam like him when Lucifer knew he could literally annoy people to death? How were his wings so beautiful? Lucifer had seen every colour, shape, array, even the parakeet rainbow wings of Joshua, but Sam’s soft grey beauties just pushed all his buttons the right way. Not to mention the incredible sensation of his Grace. It was like it had known every spot, every secret nook and cranny where the archangel’s own essence loved to be touched and pleasured. It was so good that Lucifer almost wanted to test it again to make sure it hadn’t been some random stroke of beginner’s luck. 

The hand that had stayed in his hair as he shifted up and pulled Lucifer back down toward Sam’s lips. There was a delicious little moment of tension, as if they’d never kissed before and this was their first time, and then Satan pressed his lips against Sam’s warm mouth. The taller angel didn’t push for tongue or taste of lust, just seemed to love the gentle sensation. Jeez, it had been hundreds of years since Lucifer had kissed someone like this…had he ever kissed someone like this? Temptation came in many forms, but he, the tempter, had become used to the taste of ulterior motives in his kisses. This didn’t taste like that, and despite himself, the new flavour was as delicious as the sinful ones. It left him breathless and lightheaded in a way he hadn’t experienced before.  
“I think I like kissing though.” Sam smiled as they broke apart. “I could do that a lot.”  
Lucifer couldn’t help the evil grin that lit up his face and he pushed himself up further onto his hands. He could corrupt Sam’s innocence all day. “You’re adorable Sammy, you know that?”  
“Huh, says you.” There were implications in Sam’s tone that made Lucifer’s eyebrows fly up.  
“You think _I’m_ adorable?” Lucifer threw back his head and laughed until he wheezed.  
“Yeah, laugh it up.” Sam’s lip twitched with humour. “And just because you’re handy with a whip doesn’t make you any less cute.”  
Lucifer just laughed until his eyes watered. If any other angel had called him ‘cute’ they would have found themselves part of a bloody explosion, but Sam was saved by his naivety. And his sexy wings. And his delicious Grace and…well pretty much everything.  
“So are you gonna laugh at me all day, or are we gonna get some work done?” Sam still smiled and Lucifer sat back on his haunches as little bursts of laughter tried to work their way out of his mouth.  
“Ooh woow.” Satan breathed and tapped Sam’s abs. “Yeah, let’s go find that Angel Tablet.”

He could still use Sam. That wasn’t a huge strain on his practically non-existent conscience because that was what Lucifer did best. And if – when – Sam found out his true nature, the angel would probably hate him anyway. A twinge of – what, sadness? – pulled at his Grace for a moment, but Lucifer pushed it away. No, Sam was a little indulgence, a little treat for himself as a celebration of his escape. Not even he and his soft grey wings would get in the way of Lucifer’s plans. And if he couldn’t kill him, perhaps he could turn him, seduce him into (more) sin. A little smile picked up on the Devil’s lips as he thought about Sam at his side in Hell. Now that was an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this bit to turn into an entire chapter, but oh well c: I didn't mean for them to be this frickin cute either, gosh guys. As always, I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter, and thank you so much to everyone who has already left kudos and comments n.n Y'all make my day ( ^▽^)


	8. Falling Deeper Every Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture c:

“This is where I last heard anything.” Nick dropped Sam down atop a building in some American city called Indiana. It didn’t look anything special. Sam’s eyebrows dipped in confusion and he peered around for something that might make it a little more worthy of holding the Word of God. What had he been expecting? The sacred ruins of Jerusalem? The cold mystery and never-ending maze of the warded catacombs of Paris? Yeah, kinda. This just seemed too…ordinary.  
“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Nick’s fingers laced together, casual in front of him. Back in his worn, olive green shirt and blue-grey overshirt, he looked a million miles from the temptuous creature of pleasure that had brought Sam to such incredible heights. No, that wasn’t quite right; his beauty may change like the tide –endearing to statuesque to an object of lust – but no matter what he wore or what he did, to Sam he glowed with life and confidence and that was more beautiful than anything physical. And if Nick believed the Tablet to be here, then Sam would trust his judgement.  
“Nothing.” Sam caught Nick’s head and kissed his crown. 

The smaller angel tensed for a second and Sam found that sad. Nick always was so surprised when Sam was gentle and warm with him – he hadn’t missed the way the gold-winged angel had hidden his face in Sam’s neck when they’d lain in each other’s arms after sex, as if he didn’t understand or couldn’t believe the situation. He hadn’t missed the tingle of surprise and happiness between their mated Grace when Sam had kept their kiss gentle and soft, nor did he miss the way Nick leaned into his touch, like he had on the stone creation bench, in a way that suggested he didn’t even realize he did it. Sam didn’t believe it was all to do with the hundred years he’d spent on Earth. Nick’s will was too strong for that, if how he had ignored his mating instinct was anything to go by, even though the instinct hadn’t been as overpowering as Dean had described.  
Sam had an odd feeling the gold-winged angel’s behaviour was something to do with Nick’s family, with his dead brothers. Perhaps after this excursion, he could press and see whether they could talk to Nick’s parents or someone like that. It might help, but if all Nick needed was Sam, then he’d always be there for him. 

That caught him off-guard for a moment. It wasn’t an urge of lust like Dean and Castiel that made him want to be with Nick. Sam had expected it, hell, he’d been terrified when the blonde angel had zapped him awake that he’d feel some kind of crazy passion return, just like Dean had described. But it hadn’t, even though in a biological context that made no sense. Surely it wanted to drive them both crazy until they gave in and had a child? Nick hadn’t seemed to think so, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t felt his Grace rise out of his body. Then again, he had been unconscious. It didn’t help that angel mating wasn’t exactly a topic of widespread discussion, so Sam just decided to go with the flow.  
“Now, what are we looking for?” The grey-dappled angel slid his hand down that pale blonde hair on the path back down to his side. Nick did that thing where he kinda moved with the touch without realizing it, then his ice-blue eyes scanned the city before them.  
“Demons. This one in particular.” Nick conjured up an image of a humanoid demon – it must have been a human once, but now sported three sets of horns across its forehead and a pair of wings showed it status. “I think it’s their leader. Last time I…”  
Nick looked away for a moment, as if ashamed. “I – I’m an Academy of Humanities angel. I don’t really have much fighting experience and I wasn’t sure whether I was skilled enough to take it on.”  
That struck Sam odd for a moment, but he wasn’t sure why. Yes, Nick was a confident angel, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was a warrior. And he supposed being skilled in things like floggers wasn’t exactly useful against high-ranking demons unless you wanted them to like you more, so it was fair.  
“Don’t worry, I was pretty much brought up a warrior. I can take this demon.” Sam squared his shoulders and peered about the town.  
Nick considered him, that thoughtful finger held up to his lips. “Can you do more than that, Sam? We’re gonna need it to talk.”

 

Lucifer’s belly coiled with delight as Sam’s eyes hardened. True, he could torture the demon into such sweet agony that it would spill its entire life story word for word, secret for secret. In fact, he already had. But he _wanted_ to see Sam behind the knife, ooh mama, call him a voyeur but his cock twitched even at the thought.  
“I can make it talk.” Sam’s tone was cold and it sent a little tingle through Lucifer’s wings. That little cruel streak in Sam, that cold disassociation was a sweet spot he just wanted to tease out, but not spoil, no. Sam’s innocent warmth was too much of a tasty contrast, and Lucifer would keep them in balance as long as he could.  
“You…ahh, you might not want to watch though.” Sam seemed to realize he was talking to ‘adorable Nick’, and it took Lucifer a great deal of restraint to keep an amused smirk off his face.  
“I’m always up to learn something new, Sam. Who knows? I might need to interrogate a demon of my own some day.” He shot Sam a perky smile and spread his disguised wings. In the open air, he could let them free of their bonds a little more and it felt good, it felt so good. After hundreds and hundreds of years in the small space of The Cage, he hadn’t even been able to spread them fully, never mind fly, and they ached with joy at their freedom. That brought him back to their mission.  
“Come on, let’s scout around.” Lucifer already knew where the traitor was, and even if he hadn’t, he could have searched the city with a thought of a thought. But flying with Sam was too much fun, and the taller angel was always in the mood to humour him.

The pair of angels swooped around the city for twenty minutes or so in the sun. Lucifer queried Sam about his childhood, and the grey-dappled angel seemed all too happy to comply. He stiffened a little as he mentioned his older brother, so Lucifer just asked about different things – what age he’d learned to fly, how he’d met Bobbicus, where his father was, what his favourite places on Heaven and Earth were… it wasn’t really deep, meaningful shit, but it made Sam smile, so it was good.  
“So what about you?” Sam looked over at him as Lucifer conducted the flight towards where he knew their demon would be holed up. “What was your childhood like?”  
Lucifer didn’t think he reacted quickly enough to stop the bitter expression that flitted across his face. Oh, it had been fine until his older brother, the angel he looked up to the most, idolized and loved had beaten him senseless and shoved him into a tiny prison cell because their dad decided to fill the house with fucking _cockroaches._ Then he remembered Gabriel and the fun he’d had teaching the little squish how to drop pure, clothes-dissolving Holy Water on stuck-up Raphael in executive meetings. But that was interrupted by the sick crunch Lucifer had heard as he’d driven his baby brother’s own angel blade through his chest in the Second Holy War. Yet Lucifer was the master of deceit, and answered before the pause became too long.  
“Oh, it wasn’t anything special. We had our ups and downs like any family.” He crinkled his nose and smiled over at Sam. “Kinda like yours really; my older brother taught me a lot, but having younger siblings is – was kinda fun too.”  
Sam must have heard the unintentional catch in his voice, and a flicker of sadness crossed his exquisite almond eyes. Lucifer wanted to tell him to get a grip, that he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself or for other angels to pity him, but Sam simply lifted up Lucifer’s hand and kissed just below a knuckle.

The action was so gentle and warm, without ulterior motive that it almost reminded Lucifer of Michael for a second, Michael before dad had brought his millions of cockroaches home and decreed everybody worship them. Not the kissing, ew, no, but the simple genuine, friendly nature of it brought back more simple days, and a twist of sadness shot through Lucifer’s Grace. All the more reason to murder these upright ape filth. They’d turned his family against him, they’d desecrated God’s world, they tortured and wiped out the beasts who would always be more intelligent than they were –  
“Hey, does that look like demons to you?” The dark-haired angel left the action wordless and cut across Satan’s inner hate-fest. A warm thumb stroked across his fingers, and Lucifer realized Sam still held his hand. It grounded him back in the present, so he could forgive it for now.  
“Yeah. That’s the one.”  
The demon was in its designated position; casually studying a convenient wall display that alluded to location of Lucifer’s Crypt here. Sam didn’t know that the other demons in the town were there to watch it and make sure it didn’t try to fly away. So far everything was according to plan.  
“Hey Nick, why don’t you find somewhere we can interrogate it? An empty warehouse or something should do.” Sam’s encouraging tone was a tell that he thought poor little unexperienced Nick would get in the way of a fight.  
“Alright. I can make a demon trap too if that’ll help?” He raised his eyebrows at Sam, all serious, as if he hadn’t just created the almost-perfect (wouldn’t want to be suspicious now) room in a warehouse with a lazy thought.  
“Yeah sure.” Sam nodded and then turned toward where they could sense the demon.  
_Time to win that Oscar, my pet._ Lucifer let the cold warning seep into his words as he flew off toward the room he’d prepared, although he could still watch Sam from here. Top-tier archangel semi omni-presence just came in so handy for voyeurism.  
But even with Crowley’s Lieutenant trying to give Sam a good fight, it finished faster than Lucifer had thought it would; wow, Sam could take down a bitch when he wanted to. The tall angel had snapped its wing, punched it through its pained attempts at defence, disarmed it and had it by the hair before the Devil could even count to ten. He kept the delighted smirk off his face as Sam latched on to his location and tossed the demon into the trap. 

They had a nice, if unoriginal setup – a raised metal chair stood in the centre with arms so that the demon wouldn’t slide off and so that Sam, with his height, would be able to reach their victim with ease. The rest of the warehouse was empty, but that was a virtue in itself; great acoustics for the screams. The dark-haired angel snapped his fingers and the front facing of the wall from the demon’s apartment appeared, freestanding with Sam’s power.  
“Look what I found.” The grey-dappled angel’s eye were alight with excitement and he motioned at the wall. “You were right. There’s something here, they’re searching for something here.”  
“Hmm.” Lucifer pretended to study it with interest, but was more impatient for Sammy to get on with the main event. But the tall angel didn’t even need a prompt; he prowled into the demon trap, shoulders relaxed in a confident set of muscle as he peered down on the demon as though it were all the scum of the Earth. A thrill of excitement shot down Lucifer’s chest and he just about rubbed his hands together in glee. Instead, he conjured a wooden table for himself to sit on; front row seats to the all-new Sam torture show.  
“You sure you want to see this?” Those hazel eyes lifted to him in worry and Lucifer just about rolled his eyes in frustration. Going a little too far with the caring thing, Sammy. Before the Second Holy War, Lucifer might have snapped at him or said something a little too eager. But his failures had taught him patience.  
“If you’re ok with it.” He smiled and Sam nodded, then turned back to the demon and an analytical kind of malice replaced the wide-eyed with worry.  
“Tell me what you’re doing here, or I will make you.” The absolute, indisputable tone of his voice as Sam stared hard down at the demon sent sparks up Lucifer’s wings. Perhaps that’s what it was about Sam that intrigued him so much; warrior angels were born and bred violent and for the most part stupid. Scholar angels had intelligence, but no fire, no fight in them. Politicians were either weak-minded or blinded by over-ambition, and Humanities angels were not only sheep, but dumb ones at that. But Sam? Sam not only had the best of brains and brawn, but had something merciless and aloof in there, something that took the placid, brown-eyed creature of light and turned him into this formidable angel with cold eyes and a pitiless expression. Lucifer could see an echo of himself in there, and the surprise was a pleasant one. 

The demon’s eyes flicked from Sam, behind him to Lucifer, and then back again.  
“I’d rather die than tell you.” The good little stormcloud spat at Sam’s feet. The grey-dappled angel crouched down, expression hard.  
“Oh no, demon. That would be a mercy.” Sam slid an angel knife out of his jean leg and played with the tip of it on his finger. Satan licked his lips and leaned forward a little, cock already half-hard. Maybe he should make up excuses for Sam to torture demons more often. Hey, there was a reason he loved bloody murder orgies; the high of power from violence blended with pleasure like perfect components in a beautiful, gore-stained artwork.  
But then Sam spoke three words of Enochian command and the demon lit up from the inside as its essence burned, but didn’t combust. Ooh. Nasty. Screams rang from around the metal hall as Sam didn’t even give Crowley’s Lieutenant time to speak and seared its essence again. Then the grey-winged angel dug his fingers into the bone he’d shattered in the fight and yanked the thing’s wing back.  
“Tell me what you’re looking for!” He shouted. Behind him, Lucifer gave a miniscule shake of his head. True, Sam was a little more adept at torture than he’d anticipated, but they couldn’t make this too easy now could they. Crowley’s Lieutenant just laughed, then screamed as Sam used more words of command on him. Ok, that was third time lucky on the command words. Using them again would take Sam’s marks down from a solid B to a B minus. Hey, the kid was doing well – he’d surprised Satan – and Lucifer threw on a few points because no matter how hard Sam tried, the demon wouldn’t talk unless it got the nod, if it knew what was good for it.

“Hm.” Sam’s small laugh was without humour and his almond eyes glinted with the shine of his knife. It was a little too sharp for Satan’s taste, but unless he had Ancient, blunt, demon-hurting weapons lying around it was the best option. Human ones just wouldn’t do. The tall angel tore the demon’s shirt off with one hand, but it just smiled.  
“Ooh, kinky.” It coughed and Lucifer almost held his breath in anticipation as his cock swelled even further. That was the one element he’d grown to really like about Sam – he was unpredictable and that meant exciting. Then the tall angel held the demon down with power and sawed away at a little strip of skin on its chest. When there was enough loose, he tugged it with his fingers and the demon choked and screamed as Sam ripped a slow, jagged chunk of skin and flesh off it. Nice. Nice touch. He’d overcome the too-sharp-instrument problem beautifully! Lust came to play with the Devil again as he watched demon blood drip down Sam’s fingers when the angel started on a second piece. He wanted to suck it off, lick it off those strong hands and baptize Sam’s bronzed face and chest with it, mmm Sam would be beautiful in the warpaint of red.  
“Y-you think a bit of skinning is going to get me, angel?” Crowley’s Lieutenant leered. “I was raised on th –“

It broke off into a scream as Sam ripped down its belly with such violence that the piece of meat caught at its belly button and yanked the knot out of the dip with a sick, wet squelch. Its guts drooped out of the small hole like a lolling tongue. Satan had to bite his lip to stop the little noise of desire that tried to leave his mouth as heat flushed up from his groin to his neck. Holy fuck, he was getting off on this way more than he should be, with his experience. He wanted to yank out the demon’s intestines and truss Sam up with them, use the bloody sternum or shoulder blade as a paddle, coat them both in the sweet iron tang of red until they slid against one another, stuck to each other’s chests with gore. Lucifer was pulled out of his little fantasy as Sam bent, gripped the demon’s ankle and yanked him up into the air. A silver basin of water hovered beside them, and Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up as Sam blessed it. That B was getting a plus on it.  
“No, no, n-“ Crowley’s Lieutenant seemed to realize what was about to happen and thrashed around in Sam’s grasp.  
“Shut up.” The cold, indifferent tone had Satan crossing his legs, and his feathers shivered with delight. Then Sam poured the holy water straight inside the demon, and lord did it sing. Its insides boiled and hissed from within, but Sam kept the holy water coming.  
“P – ahhhh – please!” Crowley’s lieutenant screamed, and Lucifer knew it wasn’t begging Sam, as well as the sadistic little beauty was doing, but addressed him.  
_Go on then._ The Devil sighed.  
  
As much as this show was almost better than a striptease, they didn’t have all week, and he didn’t want Sam to get impatient and just murder the thing. Sam just dropped it back on the ground, and the demon crumpled as it held its poached guts.  
“Talk.” The handsome young angel yanked its wing up so it had to look at him.  
“Yes, we’re looking for something here.” The thing retched and shook. Pitiful. Lucifer took a breath to try and cool himself off a bit, and hoped just a wee bit that Sam would hop on more opportunities to slice and dice this bitch.  
“What?” Sam growled, low and dangerous, and a hot flare of holy fire sizzled into where he held the wing. If he’d just moved his grip down a little and punched his fingers though the leathery membrane, right on the underside of the joint was a nice sweet spot.  
“Something important, something real important. Crowley wants it, a tablet or a weapon or something.” The demon babbled out broken bits of the script. Wow, Sam really must have shaken this cretin up. This felt a little too easy for Lucifer, so he twitched his head from side to side. Maybe he just really wanted to see Sam bleed the traitor dry.  
“Where is it?” Sam’s lip twitched, but to the demon’s credit it followed Lucifer’s orders.  
“Go to hell.” It snarled, and Sam’s dainty, long wings tensed for a moment. Then he dropped the wing, sank to his knees beside the thing and admired his own hand for a second. Fuck. Lucifer’s cock leaked and he sucked the tip of his own finger in an attempt to vent just how sexy Sam looked as he pushed his hand right up inside Crowley’s Lieutenant.  
“Hah, that ti – “ The scream that ripped from its throat sent a shudder of pleasure through Satan, just the raw agony of it, and his breath huffed out hotter. Sam’s hand ripped out with a fragment of black smoke in it. 

Ooh, now that was mean. That was _real_ mean. Not many angels could do essence-tearing with effect – Sam must have been taught by someone quite special. Lucifer, of course, could rip apart a soul atom by atom, weeks of agony beyond imagination, until they found new limits to imagination. Though Sammy would have to be careful – if he ripped out too much or was too rough, the demon would die. But before Lucifer could even give the go-ahead nod to Crowley’s Lieutenant, that bloodstained, muscular arm thrust back into the soup that was the demon’s innards and dragged out another piece. The thing shrieked and spasmed on the floor as its very being was torn into pieces.  
_Tell him. Now._ A crackle of heat shot through the archangel’s feathers at the sight of those muscles picked out in red. It was a pity Sam’s dappled wings weren’t spattered, but then again, Lucifer kind of liked that; he felt that only he could despoil them, only he could make them dirty and bloody and shaking.  
“Lucifer’s Crypt!” The demon screamed as Sam drew back for another plunge. “Lucifer’s Crypt…C-Crowley tortured Meg to – “  
“I don’t care.” Sam spat, and his steely voice just gave the Devil tingles. Getting Sam hard and hot was one thing, but it was a much bigger step to go from virgin to full gore-covered fucking. Darn. Patience was such a pain sometimes. “Co-ordinates. Now.”

Crowley’s Lieutenant scrambled out the co-ordinates as it could see the reward in sight.  
“Good demon.” Was that a _mocking_ tone Lucifer heard in this nerd’s voice? Damn, his dick was harder than the metal chair right now, but there was no sense to be acting on it yet. Then Sam raised his drenched hand and burned the demon’s essence to ashes. B+ on torture, A on arousal techniques, Sammy. He’d done better than most _demons_ , but then again, maybe Lucifer was bias.  
He gave a little round of applause. “Wow, you really got him to talk, huh Sammy?”  
The tall angel’s lips pressed together and he shot a look down at the mangled body with a derisive huff. “You must think I’m a psychopath.”  
“Oh no, Sam, no!” He so didn’t want Sam to feel bad about that beautiful bit of art. He hopped off the table and stroked two careful fingers up that bloodied forearm. For a moment, Lucifer had the urge just to suck it off his fingers in front of Sam, but that would be breaking character just a wee bit.  
“You got him to talk, hell, you got the co-ordinates to Lucifer’s Crypt _and_ the angel tablet!” He grinned up at his lover and leaned in to kiss those soft lips as he hooked his fingers around the red-stained ones. Sam seemed to realize just what that meant, and a big hand squeezed his shoulder with excitement. His grin broke their kiss.  
“Yeah…yeah we did! We…” Sam gave an elated laugh, voice was breathy with excitement, and he caught Lucifer’s lips again. The archangel sucked on his tongue and smoothed his hands down that hard-muscled back beneath his wings. Sam moaned as he pulled the Devil up against his blood-spattered shirt and gave a delicious gasp as Lucifer’s cock pushed up against the crook of his thigh.  
  
“Unh, you’re so hard…” Sam’s fingers tangled into Lucifer’s feathers and a streak of brilliant pleasure shattered through each quill.  
“Sam…” He growled and sucked his lover’s neck as he plunged his fingers into that dark hair. Damn, how did Sam make his wings so hot? They quivered inside their disguise and begged him to let them be free and submit themselves to more of Sam’s magic touch. Lucifer’s hips nudged his cock as just a little tease against the other angel’s steadily stiffening groin.  
“Mmm, you wanna get that tablet?” Despite himself, and his pulsing Grace, and those _wicked_ fingers in his wings, fucking wasn’t first priority right now. They could do that later. Hell, they could do it for a week straight celebration if Sam wanted. Or if the tall angel would come to Hell by Lucifer’s side then they could fuck in sin and without fear of the wrath of the Heavenly Host for all eternity. They just needed this little plan to work.  
“Yeah, I do.” Sam rasped in his ear, and slid his hand out of Lucifer’s feathers. A little groan of frustration slipped out of his lips before he could stop it, but he drew his head back from that neck decorated by his lust and stroked the taller angel’s face for a moment. “Maybe just leave the violent torture out of our Project Log, huh?”  
“Sure, buddy. The sex too?” He smirked as Sam grinned.  
“No, definitely describe that in detail.” They both chucked for a moment, then Sam waved a hand and the demon’s body, the devil’s trap and the chair and table all vanished. “C’mon Nick, let’s go find ourselves the Word of God.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Samifer cuteness/voyeuristic demon torture. It's Satan, what can I say :P Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear what you thought of it! Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and your wonderful comments...you guys are so lovely ＼(^o^)／ Stay awesome my homies n.n


	9. The Beginning of The End

Sam could barely contain his excitement as they landed in Lucifer’s Crypt. It was a space like those in Heaven, on a slightly different plane of reality to prevent human discovery of it. Every inch had visual warding against angels, demons and every other creature, but not entry warding; in basics, you would never know where it was unless you had already been there. Crowley must have tortured Lucifer’s lieutenants to get the co-ordinates, and they probably had lied or been vague – hence the demons searching the town. But now…he peered around the gloom as Nick and his light appeared beside Sam. The tall angel warmed on the inside as he saw Nick and his glow; it was as though he had so much light inside him that it was impossible for it all to be contained, and he’d never seen an angel like that. But then again Nick was a lot of things other angels weren’t, and he had begun to suspect there was even more than met the eye to his mate – or whatever this was that they had. The gold-winged angel had even watched him torture a demon and seemed oddly bright afterwards. Maybe it was a dominance display thing – Dean often rambled (wow, did he ramble) about how there was nothing better than Castiel all covered in blood straight out of battle. To which Sam would do a bad yet over-dramatic rendition of Bonny Tyler’s ‘I Need A Hero’ and Dean would vehemently regret ever playing him that song…

Sam’s jaw tightened at the thought of his brother and it dampened his excitement for a second. No. When Dean apologized, they’d make their peace. Knowing that stubborn bastard it might take a while, but Sam was ready to forgive him if he realized he’d been in the wrong. But now was now, and now they stood in _Lucifer’s Crypt_. For a moment Sam swallowed and looked about with the stupid fear that the mighty Morningstar would suddenly appear in rage and drag them down to eternal torture in Hell just for daring to disturb his stores. Myths went that if an angel wouldn’t join him, he’d rip their wings off and eat their Grace, then throw them to the demons to join the damned human souls. That his forked tongue could despoil the most righteous angel from a warrior of God to the servant of the Devil, that his huge wings could turn Heaven black with their shadow. No, Sam told himself. Lucifer was locked in the Cage. He would never escape. 

A corridor stretched to each side, and even with his angelic senses, he couldn’t perceive if it was endless or not. On the wall to Sam’s right, huge squares had been chiselled into the stone with even space between, as far as the eye could see. It didn’t take angel perception to know those were doors and to know that there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of them in either direction.  
“Penny for your thoughts?” Nick stood on his tip toes and rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder, bright and perky as ever.  
“How are we ever going to find the right room?” Sam sighed and drew a hand through his hair. Dammit. He hadn’t thought about that. The demon had given him co-ordinates to the space but not to the room with the angel tablet in it. Then again, Crowley’s lackey probably wouldn’t have known anyway.  
“Well, my guess is that Lucifer has some sort of fall-back in case he can’t get to the Crypt himself or something.” Nick encouraged and his blue eyes darted across the wall. “C’mon, we got this far. Can’t give up now, Sammy.”  
The blonde angel flicked his eyebrows and moved off Sam’s shoulder.  
“This is Lucifer we’re talking about, Nick!” Sam huffed in exasperation as Nick went over to the wall. “He’s probably got traps and seals and binding sigils in every wrong room. Maybe this is a bit above our paygrade.”

It did feel awful to turn back when they’d come so far, when the angel tablet almost seemed right in their grasp…but if Nick got hurt, that was on him. If they got trapped forever in Lucifer’s maze of rooms, that was on him.  
“Aw, come on Sam, show me that adventurous fire!” Nick urged with the movements of his hands as much as his tone. “And look.”  
Every argument Sam had sank back down as he stared at what the shorter angel pointed at. Letters so ancient that the old, moss-covered stone had all but absorbed them had been seared beside one of the doors.  
“Is that…?”  
“Archaic Enochian, Sammy.” Nick grabbed his wrist, eyes lit with enthusiasm. “What does it say, hm? We can read this. Or at least some of it.”  
A flare of hope kicked back into Sam’s belly, and he examined the letters. It simply said ‘no’.  
“But…there must be a thousand different rooms, maybe hundreds of thousands.” Sam looked left then right, but now they had a chance, now the taste of success was so close… Nick’s eyebrows flew up in disbelief.  
“Are you an angel or a human?” Nick put his hands on his hips then pointed behind Sam. “Come on, you take that way, I’ll take this way, we’ll solve this thing in hours!”  
He spread his arms a little on the last word, then brought them together in front of his chest and looked at Sam expectantly. 

A smile tugged Sam’s lip up. This gold-winged angel could bring him up when Dean had slammed him down, could accept the shady aspects of his upbringing without even batting an eye and took on a challenge like Lucifer’s Crypt with enough optimism and enthusiasm for both of them. And the best thing was that, even though Nick was attractive and Sam would never say no to the amazing pleasure they could bring each other, it didn’t interfere with their lives.  
“What’s that look for, Sam?” The smaller angel tilted his head to the side and he looked too cute for his own good.  
“I…I just need more angels like you in my life, that’s all.” Sam smiled and dipped his head to kiss those unique, curved lips. “You stay safe, huh?”  
His fingers scratched gently into the light hairs at the base of Nick’s neck, and the gold-winged angel smirked. “You too. Don’t go pissing Lucifer off by opening things you shouldn’t open.”  
Sam grinned at the other angel’s light-heartedness. “I’m pretty sure the angel tablet is on the top ten list of things Lucifer would definitely not want opened.”  
“Touché.” Nick winked and then the angel vanished and, as always, took a warm piece of Sam with him.

 

Lucifer waited an hour before he called Sam to the correct room. He’d already removed the slab of stone the tablet was preserved in from its box warded against weaker angels, demons, humans, the lot. He’d made it specifically that only archangels could open it. Yes, he could have done this whole expedition without Sam and yes some angels might say he’d gone the long way round but hey, he needed a reason to ask for Sam’s leger. Prophets were tricky to deal with at the best of times, especially for something ‘evil’ like him, but he had plans for that too. And besides, he actually did just like spending time with Sam. The tall, almond-eyed angel made Lucifer’s Grace relax (even though the archangel was rarely on edge) and every time he spoke to Sam, he felt less like the angry revenge-bent thing that had seethed in the Cage for all those years and more like the Morningstar, the first light of the day, the beautiful archangel who loved and served God. Well, everything had all gone too far for him to ever be that angel again, and he wouldn’t want to be if he could be, but with Sam there were no pre conceptions. He could sing to him, snuggle his head into that muscular shoulder and talk about some of his problems without judgement. For now. A sad little tug pulled at Lucifer’s Grace again when he thought of what Sam would say, what Sam would do when he found out. That is, if he ever saw him again after the penultimate step in the first part of his plan was complete. Ugh, come on, he didn’t have time for weak emotions like that. Lucifer shrugged his wings free of the feeling and distracted himself with the delicious memory of Sam sinking his hand into the demon’s gut. Even that yummy little torture scene had been worth all the dithering around and forward preparation.

“You think this is the one?” Sam breathed, a look of awe on his face as he took in the door which Lucifer had flown back out of just a minute ago. He sounded out of breath; Lucifer hadn’t made this place to be an easy ride. It wore out the best of angels, and if they stayed here more than three hours, they would pass out altogether. Lucifer’s tall companion bent and ran his hands over the all-but-invisible writing. He hummed phonetics to himself for a moment with a frown, then looked back up.  
“How can you be sure this says ‘tablet’? I mean it could be ‘tablet’ or ‘squid’ and I wouldn’t want to see why Lucifer has a squid room.”  
Lucifer couldn’t help the short laugh that rose up his throat. Ok. He really needed to make a squid room now. He crouched down beside Sam and his hands hung between his open thighs.  
“Listen to the wavelength phonetics, Sam.” He hummed the tone of the word in the right syllabic rhythm and let it ring through their celestial transmitters. Enochian had been simplified and depowered to the point where it was pretty much a peasant language compared to its complex, musical origin which, when spoken correctly, worked on three different levels of sound and inflection. It required the use of the singing voice, the speaking voice and the internal wavelength voice to speak it, and often wings had to correlate to the rhythm of the words as well. God had simply deemed it too complicated and powerful for the lower class angels to speak, and had reformed a basic version. Their loss.  
  
“Wow, ok.” Sam grinned and a warm sensation swept through Lucifer as the young angel looked him up and down with awe. It was just ridiculous how pleased he got under Sam’s admiration. “You’ve really got the hang of that, huh?”  
“My father was a language buff too.” Lucifer smirked and stood. He crossed his arms and looked left and right down the hallways as Sam stood beside him.  
“Now how do we open this thing?” The grey-dappled angel frowned at the square carved in the wall, then summoned up some power in his hands. It was all Lucifer could do to not tell his lover to stop, but he couldn’t give himself away. As Sam tried to blast it, the door just soaked up the power. A fizzle of blue snaked around the carved groove and the tall angel gasped. Yep, that’d drain you. He prided himself on how well he predicted what angels would do, but now that could be a small problem.  
“Sam?” He stepped forward as the dark-haired angel staggered, then steered him to the wall. Hopefully…  
“I don’t think we should use Grace power on it.” Sam groaned, one hand against his temple as his back sagged against the smooth stone. Lucifer’s Grace whined in protest at the sight of unhappy Sammy, but it wasn’t life threatening. If they didn’t struggle a bit, it’d be an insult to himself, and Sam wasn’t a little princess. He could take a hit here and there.  
“Yeeah.” Satan bared his teeth in a grimace and paced back in front of the door.

He tried a few words of command that he knew would do nothing, and then gave Sam a little nudge against the wall with his power. The tall angel’s shoulder slid and the wall gave an audible _click_. A seamless panel about 5cm tall and wide sank into the wall. Y’see, that was the problem with angels and demons. They’d throw power, words of command, magic and big weighty things like that at puzzles, but not think to just feel up a wall. Lucifer, the king of feeling things up, loved the whole simplistic shame of the situation.  
“What – “ Sam spun and looked behind him, eyes wide and mouth parted with surprise. The door shimmered blue for a moment, wavered, then vanished. “Wow, I full-on Indian Jones-d that.”  
Lucifer snickered at his adorable expression, then turned back to maw of the tablet room.  
“I’ll go first this time.” There weren’t any more traps; Lucifer believed that if anyone made it this far, they kinda deserved whatever they found.  
“Ok, um…” Sam heaved himself off the wall and his eyes darted around the interior. It wasn’t much – the classic Crypt space with a few chests, curse boxes and ancient power amulets, but the throb of power that came off the intact, unwarded tablet was unmistakable.

Lucifer displayed the correct amount of caution and entered his own storage space, Sam hot on his heels.  
“Can you feel that?” Sam cradled his arms and peered around the dim room. “It’s way more powerful than the other tablet.”  
“Mmm.” Lucifer let Sam zero in on the slab of rock on the shelf which held the Word of God, words of command to his fallen angels at the ready in case he decided to open it. “It’s intact, I’d say.”  
“Wow.” Sam breathed, then grinned. “We actually found it Nick. The angel tablet. Holy shit.”  
Big hands lifted the stone with awe, but Lucifer didn’t feel that burn of power lust come off Sam that he thought he would. The taller angel’s whole being pulsed with excitement though, and it brought a little warm-eyed smile to Lucifer’s face. He paced over as Sam gave an elated laugh with eyes full of wonder. Then there was a small thud as Sam placed the tablet down. Then Lucifer found himself swept up about Sam’s waist and spun around as eager lips found his. The Devil curled his fingers into that long brown hair and cupped Sam’s jaw with the other as he drank in his lover’s excited glow. It had to be infectious, because Lucifer’s own Grace shimmered with exhilaration, and he grinned as they broke apart.  
  
“You’re not going to slap me this time?” Sam smirked and made a point of shifting the archangel around his slender hips. Lucifer nuzzled up to Sam’s ear and bit the lobe. Hell Sam’s body was so warm and firm, and in these arms it felt as though his own inner ice might melt.  
“Do you want me to?” He grinned and kissed the red patch on Sam’s cheek where the impact of his knuckle from a ferocious archangel back-hand had marked.  
“I’m not answering that on the grounds you’ll tease me for all eternity.” The tall angel let him slide back to the ground, but Lucifer kept their chests together and his arms looped around that bronzed neck.  
“Oh, I’m gonna tease you for eternity anyway Sammy, one way or another.” He made his eyes lazy and bit his bottom lip through a little, seductive grin. It seemed to work a little too well, because Sam’s fingers dug into his ass and he kissed him hard.  
“Mmm.” Lucifer slid his tongue along Sam’s and almost by habit split it into a fork. Sam gave a little moan of surprise and a thrill of heat spiralled from the Devil’s chest to his groin and up his cock. He could feel Sam’s nipples, hard through that thin shirt as the other angel gave himself up to the lust Lucifer could taste on his tongue; the heat of excitement and discovery had burned into a different kind of fire. Sam sucked his tongue like he’d been French kissing all his life, and Lucifer backed him up against the short, altar-like work bench in the centre of the room. Darn. There was no way he could even consider letting off the amount of power his release produced in here with so many volatile objects, but Lucifer didn’t even have to conjure an excuse.

 

Sam was wrenched out of the kiss as a klaxon alarm screamed in his head. Charlie. It was Charlie. She’d sent out an urgent distress call, the kind of call meant only for the brink of death or mortal peril. He cried out at the strength of it and pressed his forehead into the curve of Nick’s neck for a second.  
“Sam, what – “ Nick caught his shoulders and checked him over with ice blue eyes.  
“One of my friends is in danger. Really bad.” Sam grunted out and pressed a hand to his forehead. “You take the tablet, I have to answer this.”  
He trusted the gold-winged angel without even a thought. If this was a fight, Nick wouldn’t be able to help him, and somebody had to take the tablet.  
“Ok Sam.” Nick nodded and squeezed his shoulders. “But if you get hurt, I’ll kill you.”  
Sam gave a half-hearted chuckle, slid his angel knife from the leg of his jeans and spread his wings. One moment he was in Lucifer’s Crypt, the next he stood in a Heavenly space he’d never seen before. Blue-green swamp grass poked out of bundles of wet moss through the mist. An odd bird call echoed in the emptiness and Sam frowned. What –  
Then the words of a binding spell broke the dense silence. Sam whirled, his eyes wide in surprise at the pair of angels he saw, and he tried to rattle off the counter-spell. But the pair of them made a more powerful incantation than just one angel, alone and tired from the drain of Lucifer’s Crypt, could stop. He crumpled to the ground and before Sam could even call out to Nick or Dean, the invisible door to a sigil-cloaked structure opened and he was thrown inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the suspense! Predictions on what might happen to poor Sammy? :D Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments and kudos, you are all literally the best and you all deserve cookies c: If you like, tell me what you thought of this chapter, it means the world to me (✪㉨✪) stay fantastic bros!


	10. Doomsday

Hm. Lucifer frowned at the space where Sam had vanished. This fucking grey-dappled angel never stopped surprising him. Sam had held one of the most powerful objects in creation and had just given it away because his friend had called. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense that Sam would trust _him_ , an angel who he’d met, like, three shifts ago, to look after the Word of God. Of course, it played right into Lucifer’s hands, but the deception was so easy it almost felt bad. But Lucifer was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, although that ache, the sad tug pulled on his Grace as he realized that might just have been the last time he’d ever see Sam. No, no, when the curtain was pulled, he’d offer Sam a throne beside his own in Hell. Or they could share. Lucifer smirked at the thought of Sam draped on his lap as he addressed his demonic hordes. Then he pushed that warmth he’d come to grudgingly acknowledge to the side and considered the stone-coated angel tablet. It would be safe here for now, and he could get it at a moment’s notice. Seriously Lucifer, did you just orchestrate an entire situation just to spend more time with Sam? The Devil groaned and his jaw tightened. _Maybe_ …maybe he had, but now he’d tarried enough, he’d had his little domestic vacation. Lucifer spread his huge wings and latched on to the Barracks of Heaven. He’d been tuned in to every frequency in Heaven since his arrival and knew that today was a training exercise between the two main Garrisons. If there was one way to throw Heaven into turmoil, it was to destroy their armies. Of course, as proved in the First and Second Holy Wars, Lucifer couldn’t take on the garrisons of Heaven as well as Michael and Raphael all at the same time. This time he wouldn’t use horsemen or the age-old demons from the depths of Hell. No. This time he wouldn’t have to recruit anybody’s help.

Lucifer chose the space of a warrior called Irates and appeared, invisible, in it. It took one glance to know everything there was to know about the guy; very little willpower, First Generation, not the brightest feather in the wing, a bunch of macho friends…he’d do fine. Lucifer took all the information he needed and Irates never knew what hit him when he spontaneously combusted into smoke. Apparently he served Castiel. That couldn’t be right; Lucifer had obliterated that jumped-up Marshal in the last Holy War. It had served him right for thinking he could take up a mantle meant only for archangels. But he’d soon find out. Satan tossed on the disguise and locked on to Irates’ rank position. He was suitably low-class, near the back, perfect for Lucifer; if Raphael saw him, there was a huge chance that Raphael would know him. But he was the King of Deceit, so Lucifer just had to be careful; head down, eyes down, no disguise slips and he’d be sailing this ship to victory. He snapped open his new, sky-blue wings and appeared in the rank and file line beside two more of Heaven’s most expendable. 

“Got caught up preening your feathers, Irates?” One of them turned an amused look on him, and Lucifer kept his eyes averted. He’d probably have this angel screaming and kneeling on the floor if he met him in the eye, and nothing says Satan more than screaming and kneeling. Lucifer gave an Irates-typical guffaw.  
“Yeah right, Ulariad.”  
Then the angel in front of them turned about with a ferocious _shhh_ and Lucifer clenched his jaw at the insubordination, but couldn’t let his arrogance and pride rule him as it had governed him to his downfall before.  
“My Garrison!” A deep, gravelly voice rang out loud and clear across the ranks, and a familiar black-winged angel swept into the sky. How had he survived? Lucifer had blown him to oblivion! He must have harboured too much rage or stared at the commanding angel too long, because Lucifer could sense him searching for something. So he cast his eyes down and thought of Sam. The way his cheeks dimpled when he gave that broad, bright smile. The fall of his hair across his face that made him look like a mysterious, dark warrior. Those grey-dappled wings that shivered and burst with electric pleasure beneath his fingertips as Sam cried and screamed the only name he knew the archangel by. The warmth inside Lucifer squashed any rage, and he felt Castiel’s search dwindle then fail.  
“Raphael and his warriors are imminent. I beseech that you treat them with respect and honour Raphael in every way that his status deserves. He shall be conjuring a Critical Warfare situation wherein you and his warriors must work together under our command. Halfway through, our second in commands will take control for training purposes.”

No sooner than Castiel had finished, Lucifer sensed Raphael’s presence, and then the other half of the army flew in with his little brother at the head. It almost made him laugh, _Raphael_ at the head of an army. True, that guy could club something with a celestial branch, but the only tactics that prude had were political. Then again, he hadn’t seen Raphael for bordering on three million years, so maybe a bitch could gain _some_ skills. Then again, this was Raphael and God and his miracles had left the building. Lucifer smirked at his little brother being the big warrior, but didn’t ever look directly at him. Castiel did. Oooh, Castiel did. That’d push Raphy’s buttons, and sure enough, the tension crackled between these two like a supercharged bolt of lightning ready to strike.  
“Raphael.” The undead angel gave a curt nod.  
“Castiel.” Raphael didn’t even give his subordinate the time of day, and Lucifer could feel the delicious energy of resentment shoot through the troops. This was beautiful. This was _exactly_ what he needed. It was like someone had just handed him the perfect dynamic on a silver platter, Lucifer thought as Raphael rattled on about rules and regulations. Seriously, he should stick to the cushy politics life. Didn’t he know that half these warriors had probably phased out into the 1960’s? He waited for the game to begin, then flew out as soon as he could. No use sticking around to get recognized by the douchebag brother number two, Raphael.

Satan’s next port of call was Bobbicus’ space. The grizzled angel flitted in and out of his basement with this stink of whisky and eternal grumbles. He didn’t really have an opinion on Sam’s foster father apart from that Bobbicus harboured a degree of hostility against him even though he pretended not to. Lucifer picked up the Leviathan Shards and conjured up a note from ‘Nick’ that simply said: _Sam. Needed to borrow these for study. Dean didn’t want me around, so I’m in my space. Call me when you find this._  
He then hid it in a compartment tuned to Sam’s wavelengths that would reveal itself for him and only him and swept back into his Crypt. The Leviathan Shards he sent to his most trusted spies in Heaven; there were four – two the brains, two the (expendable) brawn in case they needed to make an escape. Lucifer hadn’t had that much selection, and the two warrior angels had been so easy to bribe and the instinct to follow orders was still so ingrained that their loyalty was nigh unquestionable.  
_Ready?_ Lucifer called to the fallen ones, and confirmations came in from all. Go time. Lucifer disintegrated the stone around the tablet and waited. And waited….  
_We have the Prophet. He is in the desert with the Leviathan shards. We were confronted by others, but they believed us._  
_You have done well._ Lucifer smiled. He could not have done this himself, as Raphael, Defender of the Prophets, would know immediately if he even came 200 miles within range of the Prophet. _And you shall be rewarded handsomely. Now return to your posts._  
Next stop was one of the angels he owed this whole opportunity to. The angel who had set him free.

  
Charlie hummed a little angelic hymn as she sat at her top-quality coding panel in Castiel’s command headquarters. Things had been a bit odd lately. First she’d been having these weird memory blurs – nothing big, just a few little patches when she looked back over her recent trip to see her mother, but she should probably pop over to the Academy of Healing and get it checked out at least. Then there was Dean. He’d called and sounded all anxious through his all macho exterior, going on about Sam and some angel called Nick, that she should keep an eye on them for him. But when Sam didn’t want to be talked to, he was even worse than Dean because he could ward himself so well that even Charlie with all her coding skills couldn’t find him – hey, ya had to know what to hack to find what you needed to find, huh? And from her rebounded messages, Sam had done just that. Charlie shrugged. He probably needed some space. From what Dean had said, the older brother had kiiinda been the douchenozzle there. She’d advised him to probably apologize, but Dean had grumbled about the ‘pervert’ Nick, about his little brother getting in with douchebags, about how Sam should listen to him, should listen to everyone…actually Dean had generally just gone on about his life problems, but that was ok. Charlie was always there for him, and usually he conducted everything at Castiel anyway. But today the big kahoona was off doing, eh, Charlie couldn’t remember. Something to do with fighting.  
  
“Charlie.” Speak of the Devil. Castiel had this bad habit of appearing all silent and making Charlie almost jump into another dimension.  
“Oh, Castiel! What can I do for you.” She shot the boyfriend of the year her brightest smile, but still couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. The Marshal of Heaven could be darn scary when he wanted to be, and today he seemed to have something on his mind.  
“Raphael and I have put on a little friendly competition.” Castiel gathered his hands beside his back and paced, black wings sharp and cruel as ever. “He wagered that if anyone in my command force was able to hack into his weapons vault, that I could have my choice of whatever was in there. Do not worry – we did this in private so I will not be publicly embarrassing him.”  
Charlie just about choked on her angelic coffee. “You want me to hack Raphael’s weapon vault?”  
“You haven’t had any difficult tasks since the Battle of the Hellgate, Charlie.” Castiel mused, and the blue eyes that rested on her made her wings itch. “Call it a surprise skill inspection. You can do it, can’t you?”  
  
Now who did Castiel think he was? Well, he probably thought he was the Third Marshal of Heaven and her boss, so it was kind of fair, but of course she could hack it!  
“It’ll be done before you know it, boss!” Charlie grinned and turned to her panel.  
“Here’s the location code.” Something complex flew from Castiel’s fingers and settled on her screen. Charlie frowned. Now that was odd. It contained the root program signature of Michael.  
“Something amiss?” That deep voice grated behind her and Charlie looked back to the black-winged angel in confusion.  
“Looks like Michael and his top coder Ashiel programmed this.” She’d had one experience with Michael’s coding and didn’t want to frickin disintegrate again. Castiel raised his eyebrows and looked to the screen.  
“How typical of him.” The Marshal of Heaven sighed. “I shall just have to tell him none of my coders were competent enough then, rather than accuse him of cheating.”  
Charlie just about gaped. Rude for one. No way could she have it go around that she was incompetent at her baby, at coding. Ok, this was more than just a stupid wager. Her reputation was at stake now.  
“No, I can do it. I know I can.” Charlie set her jaw and attacked the security walls with vigour. 

It was powerful, that was immediately apparent. She had to throw up her own defensive firewalls to stop it melting her panel, but if they thought, if Ashiel thought he could outdo her then he had another thing coming. Here and there, Castiel threw in a bit of code or healed her up when Michael’s coding tried to eat her. It took much less time than Michael’s space and maybe it was because of Castiel’s input or maybe not, but every line of code he threw in seemed to smash down sections that she wouldn’t have thought weak. Charlie couldn’t remember the Marshal of Heaven ever saying he was skilled at coding, but hey, he was a billion or so years old, right? He had to have picked up something here and there. She would have told him she was impressed, but that’d kind of seem condescending? Charlie still didn’t know how Dean got so personal with this dude. He was cool, but man his dominant aura got her nerves all up in a tangle. Then again, Dean was pretty imposing, but kind the nice imposing, like the big dog you could pet one moment and then was ripping people to shreds the next moment. Castiel, especially today, kinda had her nerves right on edge.  
A rectangular black patch exactly like the one that had opened a year ago when she’d hacked Michael’s space opened up. This time the room didn’t shake and begin to collapse and although her fingers burned and her eyes had begun to drip blood from the angry lines of code that screamed in her essence, the defences fell pretty quickly. Personal reputation: saved.  
“Good. Good job.” Castiel nodded, then turned to her, hand outstretched with healing power. The blood in her eyes, the burn in her fingers and a weird tug in her Grace that may or may not have been a virus embedded into her personal angelic coding all smoothed back to normal. Awesome! “You should be coder to the King of Heaven.”  
Charlie practically beamed, but despite Castiel’s compliments, she was more than happy where she was.  
“Aw, I know.” Charlie gave him a little wink. “But I figure the workplace attitude is 100% more positive here.”  
“Hm.” Castiel gave a secret little smile. “Just you wait.”  
And with that, he strode down into Raphael’s stores. Behind him, Charlie frowned , then turned back to her desk. Wait? Wait for what?

Lucifer smirked as he ducked out of the back entrance of his big brother’s space, the item he needed in hand. Michael was too busy living the life of luxury to notice, and besides, Lucifer had gone the extra mile to ensure he wouldn’t be detected. The Devil hissed as he burned the Ancient Enochian sigils off his wings and his whole essence shuddered with the sick pain of it. Ugh, he’d need to moult maybe next year now. That’d be a pain in the ass, but by that time he should be the king of Heaven, Hell and Earth, so he’d have a bit of leeway to go curl up somewhere and preen. A little warm buzz of excitement thrilled through Lucifer’s belly as he imagined Sam behind him, those strong fingers gentle over the itching feathers. Then his jaw clenched and he set a course back to the War Simulation Castiel and Raphael conducted. Things were set in motion that could not be undone, and he didn’t want to do what came next, he didn’t. But this was war, and sacrifices had to be made. Lucifer drew in a deep breath and nailed the sadness, the stupid nostalgia down into a grave at the bottom of his being. No. His brothers had betrayed him, cast him out, locked him away, felt no remorse, tried no apology…they let these humans ruin God’s beautiful world, they licked the boots of these cockroaches while he _rotted_ in the dark, in a Cage too small even for his wings. All for loving their Father and this world too much. They’d pushed him too far with their righteous bullshit, their expectation that he’d just roll over and give in if they threw him back in the Cage again. No. No room for error this time, no matter the cost. Humanity would burn and Heaven would watch, locked like he had been in the Cage, as everything they stood for tore itself apart. Like everything he had stood for had collapsed in on him. By the time Lucifer took to wing, he burned with anger and resolve, all notion of regret charred to ash in the flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holding off the Sam suspense because I'm a meanie :P Here's some more story as the plot thickens! :D Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Why not leave a comment to tell me what you thought, or even some kudos? I always love to hear what you think n.n Thank you so much to all you wonderful people who have already done so, you inspire me ( °٢° )


	11. When Archangels Fall

Sam scowled over his Enochian-sealed gag as his two captors re-appeared.  
_Josephus and Xanthia. Long time no ass-kicking._ He couldn’t bind them with his frequency voice and the wards wouldn’t let him send for help, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t abuse them as much as possible. Shackled to a chair in the middle of a sigil ring and unlit holy oil, Sam kinda recognized this situation. But why would the two Academy of War bullies want to torture him?  
“Sammy Sam Sam.” Josephus smirked and crossed his arms. The pair of them looked kinda terrible. Xanthia’s nose had set crooked where Sam assumed Castiel had broken it a year ago and a patch of white scarring on Josephus’s face echoed a chunk of the piebald angel’s Grace that still hadn’t mended itself.  
_You’ve got a firm grasp of my name, I see. Must have been a strain._ Sam couldn’t quite pull the expression he wanted to with a gag on, but his eyebrows tried their best. Josephus’ jaw twitched, but he didn’t move to strike his captive.  
“Say what you like, Sam, you’re our bitch now.” Josephus paced around the chair, and Sam noted more scars on both the angels. Jeez, how badly had Castiel beaten their gang? Come to think of it, not all of Josephus’ gang had returned to the Academy of War, and he hadn’t seen Josephus and Xanthia in Heaven at all. “See, our new boss taught us some tricks.”  
_New boss?_ Maybe Michael had decided to smite him after all for being a pedicure pervert. But the King of Heaven could obliterate him with a thought, and certainly had more competent angel assassins if he’d wanted to take Sam out.  
“Uh uh, nerd, thems State secrets.” An angel blade slid out of Josephus’ sleeve and Sam swallowed, but kept his gaze steady. He wouldn’t die afraid.  
_Oh finally. I thought you were going to talk me to death._ Maybe Josephus would let him know why he was going to die before he did. _What’s this all about anyway? You such a loser that you have to kidnap company?_  
“Let’s just get to it Joe.” Xanthia growled, a big hulk of muscle in the bland lighting of the cabin. It would have been quite cosy if it had had furniture instead of binding sigils and a lit fireplace instead of the chinks of grey light that leaked from the shuttered windows. Josephus shrugged.  
“It’s not as though he’d gonna tell anybody.”  
  
The black-haired angel turned to Sam and played with the tip of his sword. Hopefully he could string these dumbasses along long enough for someone to notice he was missing.  
“Your brother Dean,” Josephus spat the worse as if it burned his mouth. “And his high-ranking whore Castiel took everything from us. Our friends don’t want to know us anymore. Our families learned Castiel had shamed us and regarded us as disgraces. Uriel was killed by a ‘demon’ at the Hellgate and you can see what that black-winged bastard did to us!”  
Josephus seethed and Sam could only raise his eyebrows. True that sounded like it sucked ass. But they shouldn’t have been such power hungry assholes in the first place.  
_Oh, and now you’re gonna take it out on me ‘cause you’re too weak to take on Castiel and Dean, huh? Still cowards then._ Sam offered and Josephus lashed a hand out and into his hair. The point of that angel blade skimmed the stubble on his neck as the piebald angel’s scarred face twisted with rage. 

Sam gritted his teeth beneath the gag and tried to find any weakness in the shackles on his hands and feet, any weakness in the runes. But whoever had taught them had taught them well it seemed. He was trapped for good.  
“Oh we’ll get them Sam.” Josephus’s lip twitched. “When Dean finds your broken, tortured body, he’ll go mad with grief. You’re his weakness Sam, and when he’s weak, we’ll trap him like we trapped you and take our revenge. Castiel too. We know their disgusting little badly kept secret. Once Dean is dead, Castiel will be in so much pain that even his status won’t save him.”  
Were these angels seriously that stupid? Sam laughed at them in his head.  
_If you hurt me, Dean and Castiel will never rest until they tear you apart. And if you didn’t know, I am also in favour of the archangel Gabriel._ That made them stiffen for a moment, but Sam knew he was on borrowed time and bullshit. _Wouldn’t want him showing up on your doorstep._  
“You’re lying.” Xanthia hissed. “Gabriel hasn’t shown his face for thousands of years. C’mon, let’s kill him now!”  
“Hm.” Josephus fell back into his douchebag swagger, but thankfully ignored Xanthia’s suggestion. “Even Gabriel wouldn’t dare cross our doorstep, you pathetic little bottom-feeder.”  
That had Sam’s eyebrows working again. Either Josephus had grown an extra ego or he’d poked a snake too dangerous for his own good.  
_You’re idiots._ Sam gave up and huffed around his gag. _You let me go now and I won’t tell anybody. You can live, I can live, we all walk away._  
“Ooh, trying to make me scared, Sammy?” Josephus jeered and raised his angel blade. Sam had a feeling his time had just about run its course. “Because I’m not even afraid of Castiel now. I’ve seen the light, Sam, I’ve seen the truth. And it is better than even you can imagine.”

A strange little flare picked up in his eyes. Josephus was insane. Well shit.  
_Huh._ Sam gave a snarky little laugh. _The only light you’ve seen is the one at the end of the crazy tunnel._  
Josephus’ lips just curled up into a cold smile. “Let’s see just how clever you are without your wings Sam. We’re gonna nail them right above the entrance of the Academy of War, a little gift to your brother.”  
Xanthia closed in from the shadows, and a quiver shot to Sam’s stomach. These two angels meant business and suddenly everything felt so real, those swords looked so sharp, and a tingle shot through his feathers. A rough hand clenched around the bone of his right wing. Sam clenched his teeth so that he wouldn’t bite the inside of his lip or his tongue off and braced himself for the blow.

 

Lucifer appeared back at War Simulation invisible. Angels whirled in ordered lines of battalions as the regiment leaders called them into formations against the conjured demon army. Oh come on. That was so a few hundred years ago. Maybe that cretin Crowley would try something as stupid as that, and he’d learned the brazen Abaddon had done so too and died in the attempt, which was a shame. She was hot-headed and violent, but had spunk, had character unlike so many of his minions. Lucifer spotted the two commanders high above the airspace – the white archangel wings and the tapered black wings of the angel who he really needed to get around to killing again. But all in good time. From their vantage point, the two could see everything, and hopefully everyone could see them. Then Castiel turned in the air to speak to Lucifer’s little brother, and everything fell into place. He turned Michael’s archangel blade in his hand. Alright Luci, no hesitation.

Castiel’s jaw clenched as he tried to get through to the arrogant archangel that the best tactic would be to have Illusion angels fly in from the side and create a distraction while their Tiger regiments flew about the rear of the simulated demons.  
It had been a trying few hours. Yes, he could conduct every single mannerism, every single correct formal custom around Raphael, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Of course, being an archangel, Raphael could sense his frosted attitude and seemed to act even more aloof in some strange sort of attempt to put Castiel in his place. As much as the black-winged angel hated it, as much as his own troops resented it, Raphael had every right to do this. It was obvious the archangel didn’t understand the point of this exercise. Michael knew the two factions of the armies were at odds, and wanted them friendly if the King of Heaven needed to command the Army of the Heavenly Host again. He wanted them united under one banner. Under his banner. Castiel gritted his teeth as Raphael looked down on him and his suggestions. If Michael wanted them to work together so much, then why didn’t he come down and inspire the troops into friendship with his presence? Castiel’s mind wandered back to another presence he had thought he’d felt today. No…it…it couldn’t be possible. It had only been for a fleeting moment, but in that millisecond, he swore he’d felt the cold, ancient power he’d only felt in the Second Holy War when he’d come face to face with Lucifer himself.  
“Castiel, you will keep your eyes down when I speak to you.” Raphael said in a calm voice that made the usually-stable Castiel want to throttle him. The black-winged angel drew in a patient breath, then dropped his blue gaze to his superior’s feet.  
It happened so fast.  
  
The second he looked away, there was a crunch, a rip of Grace that Castiel, that every angel in Heaven felt down to their core. He looked back, but it was too late; Raphael was a supernova of slain archangel Grace, it’s brilliance only broken by the point of a sword that someone had just plunged through his back. Castiel watched in sickened horror as the almighty Raphael dropped like a stone through the space of Heaven, through the assembled troops and burned the imprint of his ancient wings into the floor below. Whoever had done it was gone before Castiel could even blink, but he knew, he felt it down to his core that somehow, by some awful scheme, The Serpent had risen. Lucifer walked in the light of Heaven, and now Castiel’s thoughts turned to the Prophet that had been awakened. It seemed too much of a coincidence.  
Shocked silence echoed on every wavelength, and one by one, every eye turned upon him. For a very long time in his millions of years, Castiel was frozen. In horror at the body of Raphael far below, in the weight of his realization, and in the sudden recognition that nobody but him had seen Lucifer, nobody but him had seen the Morningstar kill his own brother and now –  
  
A weight slammed into his side, and Castiel very nearly killed the angel by instinct. Balthazar gripped his shoulders, eyes wide.  
“Run!” His friend cried and spun about, wings spread as if to shield Castiel from harm. It was as if a spell had been broken. Raphael’s troops turned as one body toward him, and his own garrison rose up like a wall before a wave.  
“I will not leave you, I will not leave – “ His growl was cut off as Balthazar shook him.  
“Michael is coming, Castiel. And you know Raphael’s warriors will swear down to the last man that you killed him, and he will burn you before he asks questions. Go!” The silver-winged angel pleaded and pushed him back.  
“You don’t think I – “  
“Of course not, you idiot!” Balthazar hissed and shooed him with his hands. “Now run!”  
His friend turned and started to call commands as the other half of the Heavenly Army streaked like an arrow towards his own warriors. This was Lucifer’s doing. Civil war. That’s what would break Heaven. Not archdemons, not a battle between the brothers or horse-men…and nobody had put the pieces together but him. So Castiel ran.

Lucifer looked toward the chaos of his brothers and sisters warring in Heaven’s sky and his Grace hardened back into ice. They would fight and fight, and Heaven would be in a kind of turmoil that even Michael would find hard to sort out. And in the years of faction revenge and slaughter, Lucifer would translate the angel tablet and shut them and their pettiness away. His family had brought this upon themselves. Lucifer was alone. But that was how everything worked best. Nobody to care for, nobody to screw you up, nobody to betray you. Lucifer spread his wings, eyes cold and empty as he picked out the location of his Crypt. All of a sudden, a horrific pain wrenched through his Grace with such force that Lucifer dropped to his knees and a scream ripped out of his throat. His right wing juddered in agony and Lucifer clawed the Heavenly dirt as his Grace slammed itself against his insides.  
_Sam!_ It shrieked. _Sam! Sam! Get to Sam!_  
Lucifer’s eyes seared with the desperation of it, and he couldn’t control the need, the urgent, white-hot screech within him, the pressure on his chest that ripped the air from his lungs. The archangel turned, reached for Sam’s signal – weak, but present – and flew toward it, consequences be damned. Let Heaven destroy itself. He had other things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late because I'm trash. It also ends on a cliffhanger because I'm trash. BUT leave a comment and tell me what you think! I would love to know c: A great, big huge thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos already, you are all awesome and amazing and I love you all ﾟ･:,｡★＼(^-^ )♪♪( ^-^)/★,｡･:･ﾟ  
> Stay awesome my homies!


	12. Sex And Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains well-anticipated, satanic violence

The sight that met Lucifer’s eyes filled him with a rage so violent that it burned through the raw, retching agony in his Grace. The invisible archangel almost obliterated his servants on the spot, but that would have been too kind.  
Those two brutes, Josephus and Xanthia, those broken, whining, drivelling things that had come crawling to him in their hour of need, had Sam manacled by the arms and legs to a chair. That strong body arced off the surface and veins stood out in his neck as the beautiful angel tried to scream around the gag sealed against his mouth. Blood and hunks of flesh spattered the floor beneath Sam’s right shoulder and his wing, his soft, elegant wing hung by tendrils of flayed muscle. Lucifer’s eyes glowed white-blue, but even now he roped in the ire, the pure crimson force of devastation and harnessed it under cruelty and revenge. And when the Devil got cruel _Hell_ did he get cruel.  
“ – I’ve never cut off a wing before! I – “  
_Josephus. Xanthia._ Lucifer’s soft tone interrupted them, and he flew into a practise Chamber in the Academy of War. Screams wouldn’t be unusual here, if anyone was paying attention during the blood-fest going on in the Heavenly Campus Martius. _Come to me._  
They didn’t hesitate before winging their way to their doom.

“Your Majesty.” They both knelt, then rose at the flick of his hand.  
“You two are so promising, you know that?” Lucifer could scent Sam’s blood on them, even though they’d cleaned themselves. He could taste his lover’s unheard screams in the air around them, could feel his misery saturated into their skin. “Dedicated warriors, dedicated to the cause, loyal to me…but boys, help me understand one little thing.”  
He put a thoughtful finger to his lips and moved around the side of the larger one, who kept its eyes down. Both angels seemed pleased. Excited even. Well they should be. Not many angels got to be slaughtered by Lucifer in person.  
“What are you confused about, my Lord?” The one called Josephus shuffled smug wings. Well, it went without saying that those were coming off.  
“When did I ever say you could touch Sam?” Lucifer laced his fingers together and kept his voice nonchalant, even though he could feel the sick ache in his Grace as Sam spasmed through wracks of pain in the chair. He’d go to him soon. He would. But Sam would live, whereas these two needed a thorough punishment. The two angels exchanged a glance, but it was more slight confusion than fear. They really were thick as marble weren’t they?  
“You – my Lord,” Josephus restarted and kept his eyes down through his enthusiasm. Lucifer tilted his head, but said nothing of it. “You promised us revenge.”  
“For helping you escape the Cage, you said that - “  
“Mmm.” Lucifer cut across Xanthia and tapped his chin with a finger. “Did Sam disgrace you? Did he hurt you?”  
“No but – “  
“So when did I say that you could touch Sam?” Another streaked of pain made Lucifer’s right wing shudder and the room temperature dropped like a stone. He wandered back in front of his brutes and raised his eyebrows like a question mark. Xanthia and Josephus glanced at one another and only now did the archangel feel their greed, their delight leech away like the heat. They seemed struck dumb.  
“Good things come to those who wait, boys. And you didn’t wait.” Lucifer lilted the ‘you’ in a dire little sing-song and turned back to them, still somehow calm, still somehow in control. His will held back the sear, the screech of his Grace like defenders might hold a doomed keep. “Y’see, Sammy there might be the only thing I care about in the whole of existence apart from trapping Michael and ruling Earth. And you went and cut his wing off. That doesn’t make me very happy.”

Now he could taste their fear. Josephus swallowed, his eyes wide and Xanthia tried to fly out of the space without any success. Stupid little tools.  
“We’re sorry, your Highness, we didn’t know, we – “  
“How about we see how you like it?” Any scrap of warmth or calm indifference dropped out of his voice, and Lucifer conjured up a hatchet. He considered it for a moment as he drank in their terror. “Should do nicely.”  
Then he marched over to the impudent fool, grabbed Josephus by the hair and flung him to the ground. In a stupid attempt to help their friend, Xanthia bullrushed him, but was thrown to the far wall and pinned there by Lucifer’s power. Sheer rage burned through the Devil’s essence as he broke Josephus’ nose against the metal floor and knelt on his back. How _dare_ they touch him?! How dare they touch _his_ Sam?! The thoughts streaked through his head before he even had time to consider them, and he fed off the screams of his prey as that hatchet fell again and again, messy, blunt and excruciating.  
Blood, Grace and feathers sprayed across the floor. White-blue red spattered over his mouth, coated his hands and forearms, drenched his chest, and it still wasn’t enough. Lucifer dug his fingers into the exposed tendons of the wing and ripped it clean off as Josephus' Grace screamed in agony. Just like Sam. A harsh noise of rage spilled out from behind Lucifer’s teeth and his eyes glowed white as he snapped the bone in the other wing clean in half and ripped the two pieces apart. He then picked up the hatchet again and hacked in bloody, precise strokes right into the meat of the wing-shoulder until Josephus’ black and white piebald wings lay in pieces away from their angel. Lucifer’s lip curled as the cretin shrieked and retched on the floor, but he turned to the other angel, pinned to the wall.  
They shook and pleaded, but sound washed over the Devil like water. They were tiny, pathetic imitations of the glory of angels and they had hurt Sam, they had all but cut off his beautiful wing. 

Red lanced across his eyes and the blue-white fire of his Grace lit up Lucifer’s huge archangel wings like somebody had poured Holy Oil on them. There was a sucking, meaty crunch as he drew a clawed hand back and Xanthia’s wing squelched from their back in a shower of blood. The angel just about passed out from the shock of it, but Lucifer didn’t let him have that kind of peace. He conjured up a flick knife and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed the muscle that bound the other wing to Xanthia’s back, until a stew of flesh and essence held their wing to their back. Satan was so afire with the pure, hot ire that had pushed through the cracks of his will, that he didn’t even bother with an instrument; he bent his neck and wrenched the rest of the appendage of with his teeth and the blood in his mouth tasted so sweet. He cast the doomed angel on the ground beside Josephus and spat out a chunk of gristle as the walls echoed with the glorious, visceral sound of angels in so much pain their throat voice couldn’t emit the right noise.  
“You’re lucky I want to get to Sam so quickly. Or I would have taken _years_.” Lucifer’s feathers swept down and lacerated the two insolent fools. In the ice cold of the room, they began to boil from the inside out. Their Grace and guts and blood bubbled under their skin until it peeled back and red leaked from beneath it. Lucifer wasn’t appeased by the noises, by the urgent, distressed vibrations these two gave off, but he couldn’t leave Sam any longer. The tall angel’s suffering screamed at him, through him in a way he’d never felt before, in a way that took his immense archangel Grace and tore through it, pulled it, all but yanked it out of his body toward Sam. The screams turned to burbles and then hissed as Lucifer evaporated the pair of angels and their wings completely. He waved a hand and cleaned up every last drop of blood from himself and the space, then appeared back in the hut warded against most angels, but not powerful enough to keep him out.

Lucifer could tell Sam wasn’t even present, not mentally. His Grace lanced between the excruciating, raw tendons that Josephus and Xanthia hadn’t managed to cut as it tried to pull the wing back, but the wound was too great for it to heal. The dark-haired angel shook, his eyes spasmed between blue and normal under his lids, and he’d strained against the bonds so hard that his wrists and ankles were wet with blood.  
“Shhhshhhshhshh, Sam…” Lucifer’s entire Grace plunged out of rage and he heard a desperate noise that came too close to a sob drop from his lips. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see Sam again, he hadn’t thought he’d cared if Sam lived or died or was locked in Heaven for eternity. Lucifer had believed himself to be the indifferent, cold angel that had walked out of the Cage a month or two ago, but the grief inside him told another story. Satan disintegrated Sam’s shirts and hefted that soft, bloodied wing from the floor with fingers that shook.  
“It’ll be ok, Sam, it’ll be ok.” Lucifer murmured like one might do to a dying animal. As soon as he touched Sam’s wing, the tanned angel screamed beneath his gag again, and his body bent over then flexed out in spasms so violent that Lucifer was afraid he’d rip his own wing off entirely. “Still, still, you gotta be still for me.”  
Re-attaching a wing was tricky business even for an archangel, but he could do it. 

Somewhere in the depths of Sam’s agony, he must have heard him, because the angel stilled and a part of Sam’s mind reached for him.  
“There you go, hold on to me now Sammy. This is going to hurt.” Then Lucifer summoned every last drop of his archangel power and poured it into the injury. Connecting it to the outer shell was the easy part. But wings met particular points on the Grace of an angel, and he had to summon the correct millions of atoms that matched up with the specific set of millions of wing-atoms to ensure each feather worked. It was a billion times harder than a human brain, but Lucifer gritted his teeth over the sound of Sam’s muffled screams and called them to him. This wasn’t the first wing he’d fixed, thank his lucky stars; Lucifer had pulled them apart atom by atom and stuck them back together again, just when the angel had thought its agony was over. Josephus and Xanthia had deserved that, but there just hadn’t been time.  
The light of his power faded and Sam slumped in the chair, wing intact once more. Lucifer erased the blood, holy oil and binding sigils from the floor, but left the wards in place. He untied Sam’s gag and as an afterthought, lit the hearth and conjured a thick, soft rug over the wooden floorboards.

“Nick…” Sam slurred, and Lucifer tore the shackles off him – they hadn’t been made to withstand top tier archangel wrath, but now wasn’t the time for anger. A weak hand clutched at the front of his shirt and distress shimmered down Lucifer’s Grace. He needed to make Sam happy again; the urge didn’t just end at his flighty Grace – despite his nature and his reputation, Lucifer needed Sam to be alright, because it hurt more than anything physical to see him like this.  
“Come on, Sam, come on.” Lucifer let Sam collapse onto him, and lowered the taller angel onto the floor on his front. The orange light of the fire made those long, dainty grey wings glow like dying embers, too beautiful to ever be abused.  
“There are angels…they’ll be back.” Sam shuddered and swallowed a cry of pain. A streak of deep sorrow shot through Lucifer at the taste of his suffering; it echoed in Lucifer’s own wings and told of how even he couldn’t numb all of the taller angel’s pain.  
“I took care of it, Sam, I took care of everything.” Lucifer murmured and waved away Sam’s jeans. He sent his Grace to the ends of his fingers, knelt astride the well-muscled angel’s bare thighs and kneaded gentle hands into Sam’s lower back.  
“Uh – N – “ The dark haired angel’s skin jumped and then, when his Grace seemed to realize this wasn’t an attack, Sam’s protest died. Lucifer’s eyebrows creased upwards in worry as he smoothed his thumbs along that bronze skin and massaged the Grace underneath.  
“I’m gonna make you feel good again, Sam. I’m gonna take away all your pain.” He all but whispered and reached a hand – careful not to touch Sam’s wings – into that long, dark hair to scratch gentle Grace-lit nails across Sam’s scalp. The groan his lover made was better, but those shudders were still from pain rather than pleasure.  
“Nick…” Sam moved a feeble hand to do something too strenuous, and Lucifer gave the shoulder on that side a firm yet gentle rub.  
“Don’t move, Sam. Don’t speak. Just let me help you.” He kissed the bulge of Sam’s muscular shoulder, then brought his nails through the fine, lower hairs on Sam’s neck and massaged around the sides of his throat, then back over the ridge of his shoulder. Sam’s body still shook and held stiff for a few long minutes as Lucifer worked, but then softened and began to relax into the soft rug beneath them.  
“Shhh. Good.” Lucifer stroked warmth along his lover’s body as Sam shivered. He was still in shock and needed his Grace calmed. So the archangel picked out the weakest Soothing Melody he knew and sang a few strains. It was a risk to use his real voice in Heaven, but in a warded, distant space while a civil war raged its first bloody birthday, he could get away with it if he was quiet. 

It didn’t take long for the power in his voice to pacify the quivers and allow Sam to gain enough conscious thought to heal the wounds on his wrists and ankles. Lucifer’s marks from their previous lovemaking hadn’t healed yet, but it didn’t look as though Sam had even tried. A little smirk curved Lucifer’s lips with a strange kind of pride. Sam liked it, that two-faced demure, salacious bastard. But Sam had had enough pain for one day. No, right now he wanted to give the younger angel nothing but pleasure, and as with most things in this vein, the Devil was a master at that.  
“How’d you find me?” Sam mumbled as Satan shuffled around a grey-dappled wing and massaged down a muscular left arm, right to the hand. He guessed he had some explaining to do, but Lucifer still couldn’t bring himself to reveal who he was, not right after Sam had been through so much.  
“In my Grace I could feel you, Sam. I don’t know how, but I sensed you were hurt so I came.” There was no reason to lie; he really didn’t know why his Grace had picked up on Sam’s pain, but for now it didn’t matter. Lucifer slid over to Sam’s other arm, and the tall angel gave a small noise of pleasure at his Grace-imbued touch.  
“Joseph – the other angels. How’d you…?” Sam turned his head so his left temple lay flat against the rug and one glazed, hazel eye moved to him.  
“I tricked them. Lured them away and trapped them when I saw what they were doing to you.” Lucifer gave a sigh, and looked back to Sam’s gaze.  
That angular eyebrow flew up and Sam gave a weak huff of disbelief.  
“You’re full of surprises, you know that, Nick?” The sentence tailed off into a groan as Lucifer worked the hard muscle just above his left wing shoulder into supple relaxation.  
“And you’re trouble.” Lucifer murmured and ran soft nails down Sam’s spine. The angel gave a visible shudder, but of pleasure this time.  
“You fixed my wing.” Sam’s breath came quicker through his words and his fingers curled into the rug as Lucifer set to work on his lower back. Ah.  
“I specialized in wings at the Academy of Healing before I joined the Academy of Humanity. And it wasn’t as badly injured as it may have felt.” He couldn’t think up a better lie and he kind of just didn’t want to lie anymore. But the timing didn’t feel right, so hopefully Sam was too distracted to call bullshit.  
  
There was a moment of silence, broken by a stunted moan as Lucifer eased his fingers into the perfect globes of Sam’s ass.  
“Who are you?” Sam breathed out, but then all but whined as the archangel’s Grace zinged over his erogenous zones. Lucifer sucked in a breath at the answers he could give, but then settled on something that’d either be serious or fun, dependant on how pop-culture savvy Sam was. The Devil leaned up and pressed a hot kiss into the sensitive back of Sam’s neck, right where his hair tailed upwards.  
“Someone who loves you.”  
Sam made a high noise at the sensation, then an array of bright white teeth flashed on the side of Sam’s face that Lucifer could see.  
“Did you just quote Star Wars, you fucking nerd?” The dark-haired angel grinned, too relaxed to even move.  
“Guilty.” Lucifer smirked and pressed another kiss just above the knuckle of Sam’s neck, then carried the trail down his spine. Visible shivers lanced down Sam’s body, but the tall angel’s breath hitched as they quivered up into his wings.  
“Shhshhshh, it’s alright.” Lucifer murmured and splayed a steadying hand in the small of Sam’s back as he pushed the taller angel’s thigh away from its twin with the other hand. A little swell of triumph heated his Grace and shot to his groin as he saw Sam was slick, but he wouldn’t do anything unless his lover asked him to.

Instead, he worked down the thick muscles of Sam’s thighs, down his calves and gave his feet special attention while he used his feathers to stroke down Sam’s back.  
“Unh, Nick…” Sam’s head lifted then dropped back down again, and his fingers clutched harder into the soft rug. His back rose quicker with the pace of his breath, loud in the small cabin space. Lucifer’s cock grew hard and expectant, and his Grace fizzed with heat. He waved away his own shirt as his essence crackled within him.  
“Mmm.” Lucifer laved hot kisses up his lover’s right leg, over every odd erogenous zone, and even got a surprised giggle as he teased the back of Sam’s knee with his tongue. Holy fuck that was cute.  
But when his lips, tongue and teeth turned to Sam’s perky, nickel-bouncing ass, the younger angel moaned and his knees shifted apart even further. Lucifer could taste Sam’s Grace just below the surface, still shell-shocked around the edges but eager to focus on something much more pleasurable. Lucifer dipped his wings, long primary feathers on an electric trail up those muscular sides, and scraped his teeth along the curve of Sam’s ass. The grey-dappled angel’s shoulders tensed and he made a good muffled noise. 

The scent of lust swirled in the air now; Lucifer’s heat, Sam’s needs, Sam’s wants, and Lucifer wanted to satisfy everything. His body sweltered with hungry heat and his cock ached to spring free from the confines of his jeans, hard and wet with desire.  
“Tell me what you want, Sam. Tell me what you need.” He hummed between hot, toothy kisses to the base of Sam’s spine as his hands massaged up Sam’s thighs and ass and back down again. That bronzed body arched up towards where the tall angel could sense him between his legs and the sight of Sam offering himself up like that sent a sudden burn straight through Lucifer’s Grace and out his wings. His cock pulsed and leaked and Lucifer found his own breath unsteady.  
“Make me feel good, Nick. Fuck me.” Sam’s fingernails scudded down the rug, but Lucifer didn’t want to rush anything. He dragged the lightest brush of feathers over the sore red on Sam’s right shoulder and let a swell of healing power pass through it. The angel tensed beneath him, and Lucifer could see him grit his teeth as his hands snapped into balls.  
“You sure? I don’t want to trigger anything more painful.” Lucifer murmured, but leaned forward and pressed his clothed, rock-hard groin against the firm curve of Sam’s ass. This time, the muscular angel spread his legs even further and dragged his ass up against the archangel’s erect cock, leaving a wet, hot trail. Lucifer only just caught the indulgent groan before it left his lips, which resulted in a short, low noise at the back of his throat.  
“Give it to me. Right here on the floor.” Sam growled and a shot of perfect disbelief had Lucifer’s cock sensitive and twitching, and his wings ached with desire. This all-but-virgin sure had some natural talent.  
“Ok, Sammy.” Lucifer breathed and flicked out a serpent’s tongue onto where he knew the nerves were most responsive. Sam jumped and a loud, short moan leapt out his lips as Lucifer disintegrated his own jeans. “But you tell me if you’re in too much pain, promise me that.”  
“I promise.” Sam strained into the carpet and his spine curved in desperation. Lucifer didn’t want Sam’s Grace too worked up today or it would make his wings far too sensitive and painful, so he hooked gentle fingers around Sam’s slim hips.  
“Shhh.” He smoothed a thumb along one shaky hip bone as he considered the angle. The anticipation of Sam’s Grace roared through him like a hunger, the beginnings of an addiction. Lucifer’s skin pricked up in goosebumps as he sensed its electric pull to him, like a beckoning hand toward a glut of this new, perfect pleasure.  
  
“Ni – “ Sam’s plea broke off into a choked, glottal gasp as Lucifer eased the head of his cock through that tight entrance. His fingers tightened immediately as Sam’s Grace rushed forward like a playful fire, and deep quivers lanced up his stomach and over his skin again and again and again like he was a damn virgin angel on his first ride. How did Sam do this to him? The hot squeeze of his body, the _impossible_ sensation of his Grace, even the sight of those demure wings on that taught, muscular form had his control tearing at the seams. Little high moans broke out of Lucifer’s throat at each short, gentle thrust inwards, because Sam’s Grace was impossible. It coiled about every part of him it could reach, it rubbed like a wanton whore against spots even Lucifer didn’t know he had. His vast, ancient being was wrapped in the eager energy of this young, hot angel and maybe it was just how damn _new_ Sam was that thrilled him, sent him into a kind of bliss that had him convulse without control right through to his wings. He'd never felt anything like this, fuck, fuck, Sam was going to _break_ him. 

Sam’s loud, broken cry grounded Lucifer again with a stab of worry, but he could sense, with this weird connection they had, that it certainly hadn’t been a noise of pain; the angel had his face buried in the rug, ass hauled up around Lucifer’s hips as his hands clawed right the way through to the wooden boards. His head tossed, long hair in gorgeous tendrils over that strong jaw as his eyes rolled with the power of Lucifer’s Grace. The archangel kept it at a slow, deliberate pace, so he could feel every single ecstatic atom of Sam’s Grace and allow it to do whatever it wanted to do. He filled it, like molasses into a vessel, searching out every spot, sliding across every piece he could find until they both moaned at the gratuitousness of the sensations. Lucifer’s head tilted back as he panted, eyes closed at the luxurious, torturous pace he set for his lover. 

It drove Sam wild. First the angel shook; his legs spasmed and feathers shuddered. Then he moaned high and clawed with more energy as his Grace coiled and opened up to the slow, electric intrusion. His body rippled and bucked, desperate and eager; a string of gasped moans burst from Sam’s lips, and Lucifer gritted his teeth as he watched the most erotic thing he’d ever seen writhe in front of him, writhe around him in a tanned heap of supple muscles and soft feathers. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ The archangel gave a harsh grunt and thrust his cock so deep into Sam’s ass that his balls smacked the other angel’s thigh, and the effect sent him reeling. Lucifer's essence lit up in electric, ecstatic streaks that hit his eyes it was so powerful, and he heard both their shouts blend into a harmony of pleasure. His wings wrenched with hot desperation against their disguise as every feather rattled, spread wide and splayed to their full stretch as they tried to relieve the intense bliss. Sam’s Grace wasn’t large enough to contain him, so it constricted so tight against his essence that they felt like one angel, one creature made of heady, intense pleasure. Sam yelled and bucked and spasmed so hard his whole body lifted off the floor, eyes lit with blue from his Grace, from Lucifer’s Grace, the Devil had no clue any more.  
“Nick! Nick, oh _fuck_ you’re so – ahh!” Sam bucked and fucked himself on Lucifer’s cock, on Lucifer’s Grace like a needy slut. The archangel didn’t even try to hold his hips in place and control this wild, pretty thing, but bared his teeth and watched his cock thoroughly fuck the virginity out of this tight ass. Sam’s shameless moans filled the air, and Lucifer gave a sudden, explosive shout as Sam’s Grace pulled him even deeper and rubbed against his essence with the same wild abandon that the body beneath him burned with.  
“Oh Sam, oh Sam, oh Sam, oh Sam,” Lucifer would never admit that he garbled, but Sam’s Grace got into every chink in his armour, every sweet spot, every secret fucking piece of him with such tight, hot intensity that Lucifer choked as he felt his orgasm close. Oh fuck. His wings shuddered again and again, but the Devil had to keep his iron will strong, a portcullis of disassociated strength beyond this insanity.

In a rush of desperate limbs, Sam pushed himself up onto his strong arms, head bowed and draped with messy hair, then flung back, a portrait of ecstasy. He canted back hard against the cock and Grace inside him in powerful rolls, and Lucifer let him, fuck he let him. Other angels might have thought the noises that burst from Sam’s throat to be undignified, a disgrace, and shameful mess of uninhibited enjoyment. But that’s how Lucifer wanted him; undone to pleasure so good that it blasted all memory of the pain of his wing away. The archangel squeezed his hands around Sam's hips to the rolling rhythm of their sex as the younger angel fucked himself on Lucifer's cock like a dog. He was gonna come if he watched that much longer. _Fucking hell._ Had he moaned that out loud? It could have been Sam, it could have been him, the world was just a blur of pleasure, sound and heat.  
  
Then Sam began to violently shake; his elbows buckled and his hands tore at the rug, ripped it, dragged it in bunches towards them.  
“Yes Sam, unh!” Lucifer’s voice broke as he cried out and his vision fuzzed white around the edges as his stomach convulsed and he bent over his lover’s body. The seams around Lucifer’s wings began to tear, and it was lucky Sam’s eyes were either shut, buried in his own arm or rolling beyond the ability to see straight, because the small feathers at the top of his joint rippled white.  
“Fuck yourself on my Grace, Sam, give in, writhe for me, scream my name, I want to hear my name.” Lucifer growled through bared teeth and Sam gave a high, desperate moan beneath him at the words. The urge to tell him to scream ‘Lucifer’ almost made him give it away then and there, to hear Sam fully surrender himself to him, to all of him. True, Nick was one of the many epithets he went by, but it just didn’t taste as sweet.  
“Nick! Ni – ahh!” Sam choked on his own cry as his hips pistoned back. Lucifer tossed his head upwards and panted as his own essence writhed inside the cage of pleasure it found itself trapped in.  
Then Sam screamed the name 'Nick' like a desperate prayer.

There was a splinter of wood as he clawed straight through the floor, and Lucifer sensed it before he felt it – like the rumble before an earthquake. Then it smacked into him with the force of a comet and Lucifer lit up from the inside out. Oh _fuck!_ His fingers bruised into Sam’s hips as he held the writhing angel on his tensed cock, but it was all he could do to cling on – cling on to Sam, on to the fabric of the space, even on to his wings, but that was a doomed hope; they ripped free just as Sam’s eyes exploded with blue white and squeezed his Grace so tight around Lucifer that a short, unbidden noise ripped out of the archangel’s singing throat, so raw and possessive that he shocked himself. He could feel Sam’s pleasure in hot waves over him, he could feel his own ecstasy as Sam’s Grace writhed against every good spot in him, he rejoiced in the savage arc of his huge, white wings that claimed Sam as his own down to the most basic code. The sensations rose and rose, boiled, built, wracked up through his body, essence and wings and the light of the Morningstar burst out of his eyes and mouth in a supernova of pleasure. It was all he could do to keep the shockwave of released power harmless and unnoticed; Lucifer hung on by his fingertips to restraint as he rode an unconscious Sam out through the waves and waves of hot bliss that crashed onto him like a storm pounds the seashore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The English used to call Lucifer 'Old Nick' I believe c: But there we go: Sam reaps the rewards of the circle of violence and Lucifer brings it to a bloody end because he has zero chill. :D As always, I always love to hear what you think of my chapters, so leave a comment if you like, they are much appreciated n.n A giant-ass thank you to everybody that has already left kudos and comments, you all are so very awesome and deserve many cookies ﾟ･:*｡(ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*)~｡*:･ﾟ


	13. The Many Faces of Love

Sam huffed into the torn up rug as awareness crept back. Before he’d met Nick, he’d never blacked out before. Yeah, he knew it was possible to knock out an angel, but difficult. Hell, it’d taken an archangel song to make Castiel drop out of the sky. And Dean had never mentioned blacking out after or during an orgasm, but then again, maybe Nick just had…talent.  
Sam frowned as something scratched at the back of his awareness. It was as though someone was trying to pick up his frequency but couldn’t quite get through. Then a series of Nick’s quiet little moans brought him back to the room and a pulse of left over pleasure shivered through Sam’s body. The pain in his wing hummed, but dull and far away, and Sam was happy to forget it; he never wanted to experience that horrendous agony ever again – he’d rather die, to be honest. Not just the pain, but the shock, the horror of the thought of not being able to fly, the violation of his Grace and wings that were taboo to touch anyway…  
His discomfort was interrupted as Nick shuddered on top of him. The blonde angel had collapsed, but curled up so that he didn’t touch Sam’s wings.

The taller angel’s bleary eyes picked up splinters on the floor as though something had smashed through the high beams of the shack. Probably their power…or…something. Sam drifted again, awake but not quite ready to be active yet. Couldn’t he just lie here with Nick forever? Why did Dean have to be such a douche about the gold-winged angel? Nick made Sam laugh and filled him with warm, honest bubble of emotion that the grey dappled angel had never experienced before. How could that be anything but good? He’d saved Sam, not just in the literal sense, but his gentle touches, his soothing words, his _love_ had stopped Sam going into deep shock and uncontrollable panic. Now his Grace hummed with content. It purred around Nick’s cock, which still twitched inside him, and Sam frowned as something in its core simmered. It hadn’t done this last time they’d made love, and the embers worried him; maybe the wild heat Dean had described had been late to the party. But Sam didn’t want to stir it, so he didn’t analyse it or poke it; he just let it be, and opened his eyes again.  
“Mmm, you ok there Sammy?” Nick mumbled into the middle of his back, and a warm, dry hand smoothed up Sam’s side. It might have been Sam’s imagination, but the angle of the light made the shadow of Nick’s wings seem huge and distorted in shape for a moment. Then the fire flickered and they appeared normal again.  
“So ok. Dude, I am so ok.” Sam mumbled back, and pushed down the urge to grind back against Nick’s cock again. The scratch at the back of his mind itched a little more too.  
“What are you that you can do this to me?” Nick murmured, and Sam just basked in the warmth and light his mate gave off. It was an odd question, and Sam wasn’t really sure he had the answer Nick was looking for. He could ask the same thing but with different context. How had a Humanities angel been able to trick and trap two savage, Academy-trained warriors? He’d only been at the Academy of Lore for a few shifts, so he couldn’t have been taught binding. How had Nick healed his wing? It took First Generation angel level skill to even attempt that, and usually there needed to be three or more medics with that level of experience. How did Nick fuck him into unconsciousness? How did the gold-winged angel feel so perfect in his life, as though he didn’t need any other angels, didn’t need anything else except for Nick?

If Sam’s brain hadn’t been addled by pleasure and the remnants of shock, he might have confronted the blonde angel. But instead he just lifted his head up from where it had collapsed into the crook of his arm and tried to look at his mate.  
“My ass is pretty great. I usually lead with that.” Sam tried and Nick’s stomach spasmed with quiet laughter. He gave a half-hearted thrust, which threw Sam’s attention back to the burn that smouldered inside him. It was too close to being insistent for the grey-dappled angel’s liking, and he wondered if Nick could feel it too.  
“I’d have to agree there.”  
Sam could feel that curved smile against his skin, and then Nick raised himself up; the angle he’d been lying at to avoid Sam’s wings couldn’t have been comfortable. The scratch at the back of Sam’s head tapped with more insistence. What was that?  
“Do you hear that?” Sam rose to his knees after Nick pulled out of him, and his skin still trembled from the sensation of the other angel’s Grace. His right wing brushed on the floor and Sam gave a grunt as the tender joint flashed with pain.

“Hey, careful now.” Nick clucked and a swell of warmth ached through the sensitive couplings between his Grace and wing. Sam clenched his hands on his knees, but by the time Nick’s hands were gone, the pain barely registered. A hot burn rippled up from the kindling flame in his Grace as his feathers sensed the blonde angel’s close proximity, and Sam swallowed. No. This is what he feared; instinct rather than choice. Maybe if he didn’t give in, it wouldn’t persist.  
“And no, I don’t hear much.” Nick’s eyebrows dipped as Sam hefted himself around to look at his lover. Something - probably them – had exploded against the ceiling and broken half of the wards. But that didn’t seem important. The sight of Nick, naked and like a wrought gold statue in the light of the fire seemed the most important thing right now. Sam just wanted to shift closer, kiss those seductive lips, taste his impossible Grace, suck on that creative tongue, then run his fingers through every inch of those lustrous gold wings. Nick seemed particularly sensitive about his wings, and Sam wanted to know why, wanted to find out why with –  
Stop it Sam. He clamped down on the desires with an almighty push of will.  
“But with you looking at me like that, I’m not surprised.” Nick’s voice dropped into something rich and sultry, but Sam swallowed and kept his resolve.  
“It feels different than before.” It wouldn’t do to just leave Nick without an explanation. “Do you feel it? Like I want you to have me again, but then it’s like, I need you to have me again.”

Nick considered Sam’s wide eyes and probably debauched-beyond-reason hair for a moment and Sam could almost feel him searching himself.  
“Mmm, you’re right.” The blonde angel’s jaw tightened; it seemed it wasn’t just Sam who didn’t like the idea of that. “Perhaps we should distract ourselves, otherwise I’m gonna drag you into my lap and fuck you.”  
Nick’s cock thickened and went stiff like a delicious punctuation mark, and Sam had to turn away as heat raced with such violence down his spine that he was hard in a matter of seconds.  
“Yeah, come on.” He breathed, his voice hoarse, and climbed to his feet, clothes firmly back over his skin. “I think somebody is trying to page me anyway.”

It was a gargantuan effort to move away from Nick and not to rub himself up against that molten skin like a cat on heat and fuck himself silly on that attentive dick, but he managed it. As soon as Sam opened the door, sound barraged into his brain like water out of a broken dam.  
_Sam! Where the hell are you, what the hell man? Heaven’s gone to shit out here and you’re still sulking? Meet us at Bobbicus’ if you still give a damn. You better be alright, or so help me I’ll kill you._ The message had just been set to repeat on his frequency, but it wasn’t the only one. Kevin had left a frantic message, Charlie said something about Castiel and going into hiding, other angels, other friends’ messages poured into his head, and Sam clutched his skull from the force of it all.  
“Sam, are you alright?” Nick’s hand sent a shock of heat through Sam’s body as it settled on his shoulder, and the tall angel whirled around so fast he almost tripped. A flush burned up his neck, but Nick snapped his touch away before it got worse. The thankfully clothed blonde angel glared at his own hand for a moment as Sam panted.  
“There’s something…I have to go to Bobbicus’. Dean needs me.” The taller angel stepped out into the swamp and looked up at the distant sky of Heaven. This place wasn’t so far out that it was dark, but grey instead. Something deep in his Grace curdled, and he could sense a wrongness in the wavelengths of Heaven. Something horribly wrong.  
“Ok. I’m going to see what all this is about.” It seemed Nick had got his own messages.  
“Alright. Stay safe.” On instinct, Sam stooped and kissed his lover. The effect was immediate. Fire burst from their touch and lanced out Sam’s wings. Nick made a shocked noise and his tongue snaked into Sam’s mouth as the taller angel sucked it, gathered the other angel’s body against him and balled his fists into Nick’s clothing. Nick’s teeth bruised into his lip and Sam pushed him back up against the rotten shack wall as hunger pounded through his essence. Dean’s message screamed in his mind, but his Grace screamed louder. It _needed_ Nick, he needed this, fuck, Sam had never felt something so desperate in his life and his chest burned with panic beneath the desire.  
  
“Sam!” Nick’s palm smacked into his face, but _fuck_ it felt good! Sam just moaned, tangled his fingers into Nick’s hair and kissed him harder as their stiff erections rubbed with ravenous hunger against one another. He wanted to rip Nick’s clothes off, he wanted to swallow his dick, he wanted to offer himself up in every dirty, sinful way and it was terrifying.  
“Sam, damnit you fucking masochist!” Nick spun them round and slammed him against the wall. A sick bolt of pain from his wing-shoulder squashed the fire for a moment, and he cried out as Nick’s hand tightened around his throat. The other angel looked a little better for wear, but even Nick’s iron will seemed breached. His eyes simmered with Grace, and ire twisted his features – not anger at Sam, anger at this sensation, this thing that had intruded on their relationship.  
At first, Sam’s Grace lapped up the chokehold, and then both the pain and pleasure numbed as Nick gripped even tighter. Fear took over as Sam realized he walked a thin line between restraint and death here, but he trusted Nick, he trusted him. The blonde angel panted, took in a few breaths and dug his free fingers into the side of the shack.  
“Now I’m gonna go. We’ll sort this out later, ok Sam? We will sort this.” Their eyes met and Sam nodded as best he could. Then both Nick and his restricting hand vanished. 

A part of Sam’s Grace growled to follow him, but not like the usual sensation, how he yearned to follow the angel that took a piece of him with him. Now it was like he wanted to hunt Nick down and drag him into passion, but as the angel wasn’t actually there, the instinct was easier to ignore. Sam gave a sigh of frustration, latched onto Bobbicus’ space and appeared in the empty living room.  
“Dean? Bobbicus?” Sam rasped out, then tried a little louder.  
“Down here!” Bobbicus’ growl came from the basement, and Sam just about ran down the stairs, curious as all hell. The sight that met his eyes was an odd one. Castiel stood in a ring of Holy Fire, but Sam knew it must have been an illusion thrown out by the Marshal of Heaven so that his friends could see him; the warding around and inside the circle would stop anything short of God seeing or feeling whoever was inside it. Dean and Bobbicus painted more sigils across the floor and ceiling of the basement, and Sam realized the ring of Holy Fire surrounded the Marshal of Heaven to stop him being summoned.  
“Where the hell have you been, Sammy?” Dean dropped his brush and marched through the unsorted piles of Bobbicus’ hoard toward him.  
“Never mind that, what’s going on?” Why was Castiel in warded Holy Fire? Why was everyone so panicked? It seemed for a moment that Dean wanted to press, but Castiel answered before the older brother could respond.  
“Raphael is dead.” The words thudded through Sam’s Grace like a bruising punch. “I was framed for killing him, and it seems Charlie has given evidence that I stole Michael’s sword to carry out the act. The two halves of Heaven’s army are tangled in civil war while Michael has forsaken his warriors and set out on a personal mission to eradicate me.”  
The black-winged angel’s jaw tightened and he glanced at Dean. “I believe – no, I know it was Lucifer.”  
“Lucifer??” Sam just about choked. No. It wasn’t possible! How could Lucifer possibly escape, come to Heaven unnoticed and kill Raphael? “How?”  
Castiel looked away, but Sam knew if the warding hadn’t been in place, he would be able to feel the older angel’s anger like the heat of the Holy Fire.  
“I don’t know, but I felt a familiar presence as I surveyed my ranks today.” Castiel’s hands curled into fists, but relaxed a little as Dean sent him a private message. “He was disguised like Gabriel, except the power of The Serpent is much greater. He would have been careful, but even so – “  
“Would he be incredibly beautiful, even disguised?” Dean turned his full attention to Castiel, like usual, as Bobbicus painted with greater diligence. 

Sam swallowed and took in the Marshal of Heaven with wide eyes. This couldn’t be happening, Lucifer couldn’t be risen because that was impossible. That was just a threat older angels threw around or reminisced on with quiet voices. Oh _shit_. That made their little expedition to Lucifer’s Crypt a little more suicidal.  
“I suppose so.” Castiel grated in confusion, but Dean just turned to look at Sam.  
“And have like, a frightening, scary aura?” Dean offered and Castiel nodded again. Now everyone had turned to look at Sam.  
“What?” He looked between Bobbicus and Dean, and Castiel seemed as confused as he was. Silence hung in the air for a moment, then Dean paced forward and Bobbicus strode over to where the tablet shards were.  
“Remind you of anyone? Nick perhaps?” Dean raised his eyebrows and Sam couldn’t help a disbelieving laugh.  
“Seriously? I know you don’t like the guy, but that’s a bit much.” Yeah, like that adorable ball of light could be Satan.  
“Think about it Sammy.” Dean tried to reason out his ridiculous theory. “New student, so dominant I had problems looking him in the eye, unnaturally beautiful…”  
“Just because he’s good looking doesn’t make him Satan, Dean!” Sam couldn’t believe this!  
“Guys.” Bobbicus came back around the corner, face drawn. “The tablet’s gone and the leger too.”  
“Tablet?”  
Both Dean and Castiel frowned, and the Marshal of Heaven paced to the very edge of the warded space, eyes sharp.  
“What tablet?” Castiel’s voice was clipped, as though the surface of his endless calm was about to be breached.  
“I found part of the Word of God in the my basement. Something about Leviathans.” Bobbicus shrugged and looked a little guilty that he’d failed to mention this to the Marshal of Heaven.  
“Did you open it? Release it from its original sealing?” Castiel fixed the grizzled angel with his laser focus.  
“No, it was already…out.” Bobbicus made a helpless motion with a sigh.  
Castiel’s face stiffened and the mighty commander almost looked afraid. His voice was hushed when he spoke next. “We all know a prophet was awakened today and was given tablet shards to guard. If the prophet has your tablet, then who has the one that was unsealed to awake them?”

The answer hung in the air like a dark cloud, but it was impossible. It couldn’t be possible, it… Bobbicus, Dean and Castiel all turned to look at him, and Sam felt a flash of indignation course through his chest. Nick did have the angel tablet, yes. But maybe Raphael’s angels had just come for the wrong one – they were trained to sense the word of God, and if Nick had opened it in Lucifer’s Crypt, would the Servants of the Prophets be able to sense its location? It just seemed like everyone was out to blame his friend without considering other options.  
“I don’t believe this!” Sam looked at the other angels in incredulity. “And it’s impossible for Nick to be Lucifer because he was with me when Raphael was killed.”  
“With you doing what? Sam, tell me! Nothing to do with tab…” Dean prowled forward and then his eyes flew wide. “Sam, what the hell is that.”  
“What?” Sam shrugged and braced himself for an attack, the way Dean was staring at him. His older brother grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him into the light of the Holy Fire around Castiel.  
“Are those hickeys?” Dean’s eyebrows flew up, and then Sam suddenly found himself without a shirt.  
“What the h – “  
“Sam. What the fuck.” Dean spat and all three angels stared at him. Sam looked down and…oh. That. 

Red whip-marks lined his skin, scratches from nails tracked down his side and the low curve of his belt allowed a very clear view of the bruises Nick’s fingers had left over his hips. A bite-mark was etched into the curve of his shoulder and Sam knew his lip was puffy from Nick’s teeth. Sam conjured his shirt back up and glared. Dean’s eyes were wide as saucers and Bobbicus looked like he’d been zapped by lightning. Even Castiel had an eyebrow raised.  
“Did you freaking _mate_ with Satan?” Dean finally growled. “And – and let him torture you by the look of it! Don’t tell me you had a freaking kid with him!”  
“Nick is _not_ Lucifer, you moron!” Sam raised his voice just under a shout, tensed his wings and glared at his brother, but now he thought on it more…it would make a kind of sense. An archangel of Lucifer’s power could heal a wing no trouble. He could take care of Josephus and Xanthia with a thought, not to mention he’d be creative as all hell in the bedroom. But why would Lucifer bring an angel with him to steal from his own Crypt? Why would Lucifer make him torture a demon? Why would Lucifer tell Sam he loved him? Something choked up in Sam’s throat and he dropped his eyes. It made no sense.  
“Wait, wait, Cas, you’ve seen Lucifer before.” Dean turned to his mate as Sam’s head swam. What if Nick was Lucifer? It couldn’t be possible, it couldn’t be, but his Grace latched on to the name with both the heat of lust and the warm glow the other angel always built within him. Plus, the way Nick’s Grace felt inside Sam, the power of it… Dean conjured up an image of Nick and Castiel froze.  
“That’s him. That’s Lucifer.”

The words thundered on Sam’s essence and he backed away from the three of them, head shaking in disbelief. He felt numb. No. Nick, the singing, happy…he’d been lonely. Not because of a Humanities field trip, but because of the hundreds of years in the Cage. The way Nick had loved close-range flight so much. The reason he was so good at Archaic Enochian. The reason he bore such resentment toward humans.  
Had Lucifer seduced him to get to the Leviathan tablet? Was that all it had been? All the little mannerisms Sam loved so much, the expressions he made, his quirky nature, the way he seemed to _care_ …Had all that been a lie? An act?  
“Bastard didn’t even disguise his face!” Castiel growled as Dean stared at him in horror. But that was the last sentence Sam stayed for. 

Nick’s signal was gone, hidden, warded, whatever, but Sam could feel him, deep in his Grace, he knew where the other angel was. He knew where he was, and that confirmed all of Sam’s fears, over the word of Dean, over the recognition of Castiel, over the delight of his own Grace. An unfamiliar buzz shot behind Sam’s nose and through his cheeks. It took him a moment to realize a tear had slid down his face, and he gritted his jaw in an attempt to quell more. If Lucifer had been out to destroy him, he’d done so, because as much as Sam didn’t want to admit it now, he loved Nick. He loved him more than he cared about himself, and if Nick was a lie, then Lucifer could look him in the eye before he obliterated the sad little angel he’d used. But he needed to know. He needed to know out of Nick’s – Lucifer’s mouth, whatever, why Lucifer had done this to him.  
_Sam wait!_ He heard Dean in his head, but his brother’s big wings weren’t meant for speed; Dean might win in a fight, but Sam won the races every time. So he steeled himself and prepared for death or whatever Lucifer could do that was worse than the horrid, desolate ache in his Grace. Then Sam locked onto Nick’s location and plunged into Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaaa take another cliffhanger 8) Now things have gotten a bit interesting between Luci and Sam...any thoughts? c: The drama is about to begin, so grab on to that safety bar and hold on tight kiddies, this is gonna be a ride and a half. And wow, you guys are amazing, like seriously, your comments are so wonderful and you really inspire me - and I mean that. If nobody responded to my fics, I probably wouldn't update. Like, I've put my works on other sites and just procrastinate around the coding and formatting and don't update very much because I didn't get much of an interaction with readers. But you guys are the best! So as always, if you have something to say about the chapter, I would love to hear it!  
> Stay awesome my homies (((*°▽°*)八(*°▽°*)))♪


	14. Past the Point of No Return

There was no security, no guards, nothing as Sam entered Hell. He knew he looked a wreck, but drew himself up, wiped the stray tears off his cheeks and clenched his jaw as he landed, even though his essence shook with fear. It would have been better to say that his fear was born of who he came to face rather than what. But in all truth, this ache in his Grace, this sick, deep hurt, was far worse than the pain in his wing had ever been. It would be a mercy to be obliterated by a gloating archangel. 

The chamber he touched down in had a cavernous roof and danced with wrought, lustrous designs but Sam had no interest in any of it. He stood, lips working with an attempt to stay his stupid emotions as he took in what he saw. There was a huge bed – bigger than the wingspan of an archangel – at one side of the room, and on its lavish covers was Nick. Or Lucifer, as was so obvious now. He lay on his front, huge, white wings relaxed on either side as he sucked the end of a pen, familiar features in a familiar frown of concentration. The angel tablet, prophet leger and a leather-bound workbook lay in front of the Devil, as it seemed he’d gotten down to translating it. He didn’t look evil; in fact in the amber light he still had a remnant that beautiful glow. The shine of the Morningstar. Sam kicked himself for not seeing it before and smacked away the hot burn in his Grace as his eyes caught on those long white feathers. It took him a moment to actually get words out of his shocked, choked throat.  
“Lucifer.” Sam knew his voice quavered with emotion – anger, fear, grief, he had no clue. The archangel jumped, as though he had been expecting to be left alone unconditionally. Sam swallowed and hated the tear that escaped his will and flew down his cheek as Lucifer sat up with the elegance of a cat. Now Sam could feel the power that radiated from him, but it didn’t crush him or send him to his knees like Michael’s had. It didn’t even make him afraid. It simply was there.  
Lucifer sighed, and his beautiful face fell as he took in the grey-dappled angel’s state.  
“Sam…” He rose, voice and eyes soft, but Sam found his feet and took a step back. “Sam please.”  
“Why?” That was the only question in Sam’s head and he spat it out like a thorn. “Was I a fun toy to play with, hmm? Was I good _entertainment_?”  
He hissed, wings raised and defensive and his whole body shook with anger, but Lucifer’s expression didn’t change. He laced his fingers in a loose curve by his hips and Sam might have almost believed there to be genuine sorrow in his eyes, if he hadn’t been talking to evil incarnate.  
“Sam, I don’t want to lie to you anymore.” Lucifer’s voice seemed flat and almost dejected, and his shoulders didn’t have the proud set of his brothers’. “I don’t want to lie to you about anything.”

This time when Lucifer moved closer, the taller angel held his ground, if only to keep his emotions in check.  
“Sam, when I said I loved you I was telling the truth.” Lucifer’s ice blue eyes met his, and if Sam hadn’t known better, he might have thought he saw a plea in there. “I want to give you everything.”  
“I don’t want _anything_ from you!” Sam spat, although his whole essence warmed at Lucifer’s words. How was this possible? How had he been so deluded?  
“I get it Sam. I’m a monster, right?” Lucifer crossed his arms and dropped his gaze. “I’m the serpent in the garden, the father of demons, the rebellious human-hating son of God.”  
Sam didn’t know what to say to that. Lucifer didn’t feel evil. All Sam could see was Nick flying under the stars, or the hurried voice that called him back to sanity from the pain of his wing, the happy singing of a lonely angel who wasn’t as alone as they thought. Debates on the rights and wrongs of humanity could wait for another time. Sam’s Grace ached like a physical wound, and he swallowed a sob. Lucifer made a noise of distress, but when he moved to close the space between them, Sam stiffened and backed off.  
“Sam…”  
“Just tell me why.” He finally managed out. “Why would you heal my wing, why would you take me to your Crypt, why would you get me to torture a demon, hell, why would you pretend to care so much?”  
To break him? But Sam wasn’t important or useful. To have fun? It seemed the most reasonable answer, but then why not finish it? Why not finish him off?

Lucifer gave another sigh and paced. The warm light made his snowy wings flicker and glow amber, as though they were made of fire rather than feathers. The lust of his Grace burned holes in Sam’s sadness as he took in how thick and gorgeous they were. Hell, he wanted to run his hands through that dangerous, impossibly white plumage, curious as to what a proper archangel wing would feel like.  
“At first I did want to kill you Sam. When we met, when I discovered you had a tablet leger in your possession, I wanted to trick you into giving it to me, and then destroy you.” Lucifer’s wings dragged a little, and deep in Sam’s distracted Grace, the statement seemed sincere. “I don’t know what you did to me, Sammy. I don’t understand it, but I enjoy your company. You make me feel better about myself than I have in billions of years, not to mention I have never felt Grace like yours. You feel like a missing piece of me. That’s the only way I can describe it.”  
Sam’s muscles twitched, they were so tense, but he deep down he understood exactly what Lucifer meant. Every time he was around the archangel, he felt more complete, much better, and whenever Lucifer left, he took a piece of Sam with him. 

Lucifer opened his arms a bit and moved a little closer to Sam, like a human might to a wild, unpredictable animal, and the taller angel didn’t know what to do. Every instinct said that Lucifer told the truth, and the fire in his Grace burned even hotter as the archangel neared. But this was _Lucifer._  
“From now onwards I will never lie to you. I will never trick you or deceive you. All I ask is that you forgive me for causing you such distress.” Lucifer’s expression was open, and his words soft as his eyes trailed down Sam’s tear-stained cheeks. Every part of Sam ached to cave in, to close the distance between himself and the fallen archangel.  
“You framed Castiel. My brother loves him…” Sam trailed off as the sheer enormity of the situation faced him. He’d slept with Lucifer, he’d aided Lucifer even if he hadn’t meant to, he was as good as a fallen angel, and even if he resisted the Devil somehow, even if he flew out of here in one piece, Michael would have no mercy on him. Sam wasn’t even sure whether Castiel would have mercy on him, although Dean would beg him otherwise. And besides, Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to fly away. Would he ache for all eternity without Lucifer? Would it hurt and hurt and hurt until he couldn’t take the horrid, awful ache anymore? Maybe this was a battle that deep down he didn’t want to win.  
“I’m sorry, I had no idea Castiel was involved with your brother.” Lucifer’s eyes dropped. “And things have been set into motion which even I can’t stop, Sam…”  
“Don’t.” Sam could hear another apology in his voice, but the taller angel didn’t need to hear it. Lucifer stiffened at his sharp tone as though he’d just been hit, but the archangel had it wrong. They’d pushed Lucifer to extreme action, and now they reaped the rewards. Both sides were in the wrong, but both sides had fair points. He could beg Lucifer to stop, beg him to rethink this endeavour, but Sam knew his iron will too well to believe that even he could sway the archangel now his mind was set. Sam could return to Heaven to be tortured or killed by Michael’s brutes, to get to Castiel, to get to Lucifer it didn’t matter. Or there was the third option. Give in to the plea in his Grace. Embrace the warmth in his being and give himself to Lucifer. At least then he couldn’t be used to hurt his friends. At least then he could stay by Lucifer’s side and help him be less harsh and more forgiving. If it came down to it, that might save Heaven and Earth much more effectively than abandoning him like his brothers had. Like God, his father had. 

A swell of calm suddenly rose up within him and the peace it brought was almost as good as the victorious tingle of electric pleasure that lanced through his wings. Sam expected that shoulder to hurt, but there was nothing.  
“Don’t.” Sam repeated in a soft voice and closed the gap between himself and the blonde archangel with a few gentle strides. The expression on Lucifer’s face bordered on shock, his eyes wide and arms limp, as if he’d been ready for defeat, had been ready for Sam to leave him.

By the time Sam reached the archangel, his breath was already quick and the hunger in his Grace made behind his eyes burn with desire. True, he didn’t want to feel so helpless under this attraction – it had been better when they were just prey to simple lust and passion – but it didn’t mean he wanted Lucifer any less. Wanted him as in wanted to kiss the loneliness out of his eyes, freakin cuddle the ice out of his Grace and laugh the bitterness off his tongue. This time, it was Lucifer’s turn to step back.  
“What are you doing.” The beautiful creature swallowed, eyes hard, although his great wings unfurled like a neon sign of desire. Sam just held out a hand, which tingled from the close proximity to the archangel whose Grace he wanted to taste so badly.  
“You’ve been alone for too long, Lucifer. Let me help.” He kept his eyes and voice soft as the Devil considered him, as though he had to process the words.  
  
There was a moment of silence, then a ripple of shock and distress lanced through Sam’s body as he saw a tear slide down Lucifer’s cheek, so quick it might have been his imagination. Suddenly the breath whooshed out of him as he found himself in a tight, warm embrace. Sam squeezed Lucifer closer, and realized the archangel shook in his arms as damp leeched through the fabric on the shoulder he’d tucked his face into.  
“Hey. Hey.” Sam murmured, and ignored the burn that boiled down to his groin as Lucifer’s chest slid against his sensitive pecs. He literally had the Devil sobbing in his arms; he wasn’t going to break the moment for Hell or high water. So Sam just smoothed a large palm up and down Lucifer’s back, until his lover breathed easier again.  
“Nobody hears about this.” Lucifer mumbled into his neck, voice still unstable. “Ever.”  
“You got it.” Sam kissed that exposed neck and smiled a little as the adorable ‘Nick’ side of Satan came through. Lucifer arched up toward his lips; damn, he’d forgotten how reactive their kisses were now. “I can swear an Enochian oath if you like?”  
“No, I trust you.” The archangel nuzzled closer, and a shot of fire burned down Sam’s spine and into his Grace as Lucifer’s lips caught his throat. The taller angel groaned and pulled his mate flush up against his already hard cock, to find Lucifer was in the same state.

The heat, the hunger that Sam had pushed down ripped through his defences and he tried, he tried not to break this moment with the urge to mate, but it was as if the flame inside him had gasoline poured on it; before he knew it his lips were on Lucifer’s or Lucifer’s lips were on his, he had no idea who moved first. A spider-web of electric bliss shot out across his cheeks, down his spine and to his groin as the Devil’s tongue swiped against his own. Sam groaned through their kiss, ground his hips against the hot, goddamn fucking clothed archangel in front of him and without a thought curled his fingers into Lucifer’s huge, white feathers. The sensation of them knocked Sam out of his frenzy for a moment; every feather tingled with electric power, the central quills were as smooth and satisfying as polished opals beneath his fingers, and his Grace roared up to the erogenous zones in his wrist as the massive yet alien energy of the wings zinged up his arm. Lucifer’s entire body convulsed and the archangel bit into Sam’s neck to muffle a cry. Pleasure streaked through every inch of both angels’ essences without mercy and Sam’s breath came in gulps as he clawed Lucifer closer, as if they would have to literally melt into one another’s corporeal forms to be satisfied. The archangel’s lips met his again and Sam had never felt anything as all-consuming and _ravenous_ as this; Grace sparked on Lucifer’s tongue, and the younger angel moaned, sucked on it in a messy, hot battle of pleasure. He could taste the archangel’s tears but couldn’t stop the greedy, needy noises that burst up his throat as Lucifer grunted and pulled his hair. _Fuck!_  
  
Sam tore away from the kiss and cried to the ceiling as that delicious, masochistic edge in him sent Grace to his eyes, it was so good.  
“Mmm, you like that don’t you, you shameless fucking whore.” Lucifer growled and Sam rolled his head to test his lover’s grip as breath burst from his body in hot, fast gasps.  
“Yes, yes, please – unh!” Sam moaned as the hand in his hair pulled back not hard enough to make his eyes water, but just enough to give the sense of being controlled. The taller angel’s hands gripped into Lucifer’s ass and rutted he against that delicious, stiff cock to underpin the description of ‘shameless’.  
“Sounds like you’ve forgotten your lesson about begging.” The archangel’s voice was downright animalistic, and Sam found himself unceremoniously thrown front first onto the bed. He hadn’t even remembered moving over here, but his Grace didn’t let him think. It reared like a snake made of white hot flame through his body and Sam writhed like a moaning slut, arms outstretched; his nails dragged at the bedspread in front of him, ass bucked back in the air with his knees apart, ready for Lucifer to rip his clothes off and fuck him. Sam’s wings fluttered in little enticing shivers, beckoned the Devil to ravage his body and Grace. He knew how fucking much Lucifer paid attention to his wings, had done since the first day they met, and they rattled in a vibration that had his cock and jeans slick with lubrication before he could even take two ragged breaths. _Shit._

A hand clenched around the band of his belt and Sam swallowed a whimper as it stopped the motion of his desperate hips. Then a violent gasp tore from his throat as gentle fingers coaxed his left wing back and a long, hot tongue slid under the tertial feathers near the base of his wing. Lucifer didn’t even give him a warning, and Sam saw silver spots as his mate pushed between them and sucked them into his mouth. His Grace twisted inside the feathers with furious pleasure as it tried to touch the electric zing of the Devil’s tongue, and the hand that had gripped his belt pushed down on the back of Sam’s neck as he spasmed and tried to – to – he didn’t know, _anything_ to get Lucifer inside him. He yelled into the coverlet, clung to it, but just when he thought his Grace might rip right out of him in desperation, that wicked, fucking wicked mouth pulled away with an ecstatic graze of teeth. A whole-body convulsion ripped through him, and the rattle of his whore wings buzzed right down a wavelength that should have made Lucifer ram him so hard into the bed that he saw stars. Instead he was left with a soaked, clothed cock that throbbed between his body and the duvet.  
“Oh Sammy, the things I could do to your wings…” Lucifer murmured, voice husky, and Sam shuddered and buried his face in the coverlet, as though he could somehow escape this blaze within him. Lucifer gave a dark chuckle and then there was a _riip_ as the back of Sam’s shirt split, in tatters. The taller angel gave a wild moan and ground into the bed at the sensation of fabric being torn around his already-sensitive wings. Fuck yes. Oh fuck, oh fuck, Sam needed to fuck himself on Lucifer’s Grace, he needed release like humans needed to breathe, _fuck_ …

One second he was splayed out in a writhing heap on the bed, then the next second something latched around his neck and he was pulled upward onto his hands and knees with a choked gasp. It took Sam a moment, through the desperation of his Grace, to realize Lucifer had fitted him with a leash and collar. However, any reaction was whisked away as a finger trailed down his ass and leg that disintegrated his jeans and briefs on the way.  
“Yes! Ahh, fuck!” Grace lit up his eyes and he wrenched against the leash, only to let out a gritty cry as his neck and by proxy his spine was pulled back into a perfect arch. The leather square of a riding crop dragged between his parted cheeks and over his almost embarrassingly slick entrance. Sam’s entire body juddered from scalp to toes. Hell.  
“Yes, yes – “ Sam bit his lip hard to stop the word ‘please’ gasping out of his mouth. His traitorous wings flared upwards in a kind of begging he couldn’t stop – the rougher backs pressed against each other so the soft undersides were exposed on both sides.  
“Oh fuck.” Sam just about sobbed as his Grace convulsed to where he could feel Lucifer. Bonds looped around his ankles and kept him spread wide open, but even though his hips quivered, begged to have the archangel’s thick cock fill him in one, hot thrust, Satan didn’t, he fucking didn’t.  
“Stay still for me.” Lucifer’s voice broke lower; even the Devil’s control wasn’t enough to stop this fire within them and Sam bared his teeth and bunched his hands into the bed covers. He couldn’t help how his skin shook or his muscles trembled in anticipation, although his wings seemed quite happy where they were. The bastards.  
It started with a gentle tap on Sam’s perineum, and then two Grace-infused blows snapped onto his ass, and Sam yelled as his essence lit up. Oh _fuck_ , he couldn’t do thi –  
“Lucifer!” Sam pretty much screamed as the whip flicked under him and smacked his wet cock; if he’d been human, and not reliant on Grace stimulation for orgasm he would have come right there and then. Yet he didn’t, he couldn’t, and somehow Sam held himself up, didn’t collapse onto his forearms. 

But Lucifer wasn’t known for his mercy, and today didn’t seem to be an exception; the crop smacked all up the inside of his spread thighs, decorated his ass, snapped on his hips and all the way over the musculature of his shoulders, and it was all Sam could do to grit his teeth and somehow hold onto reality, somehow obey Lucifer’s command to stay still. It was when Lucifer turned to his wings that Sam’s eyes shone blue and the bunched cloth ripped beneath his fingers. Archangel Grace smacked so hard into his soft inner feathers that Sam screamed and would have collapsed if the collar around his neck hadn’t lurched him back up. He couldn't see, fuck, everything swam in a dizzy haze...  
“What did I tell you, Sammy?” Satan, fucking Satan, tutted and three quick blows lanced a hyper-bolt of electricity through every feather. Sam’s wings spread as they rattled with frustration, every feather on display, as if Lucifer might fuck their angel if they performed well enough. Sam was wild. If he hadn’t been tied by the ankles to the bed and on a leash, he would have thrown himself at the archangel, damn the consequences, and somehow tried to get release in any way possible. His Grace chose to arc through him again at the very same second Lucifer’s crop cracked up his feathers for about ten blows non-stop. A noise ripped out a part of Sam he hadn’t known he could access and his body was thrown into a blind convulsion again and again and again and he couldn’t stop; he reared backwards toward the Grace he could feel beside him, he clawed and ripped at the bed beneath him, spread his knees even further –  
And then the collar tightened hard around his throat, and Sam choked and was allowed, somehow, to collapse. The thing constricted around him until the sear of his Grace numbed out and every ecstatic tingle from his feathers shuddered but they weren’t processed. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head as he gasped because even this stroked a depraved sweet spot inside him, and he was almost disappointed when it loosened.

The world swam back and Sam gulped through tears of pleasure and pain as Lucifer pulled him up by the hair. Despite himself, his back arched into the sensation, although the insanity of his Grace had cooled a little.  
“Control, Sam.” The breathless archangel appeared to have lost his shirt along the way somewhere, and Sam drank in the sight with hungry eyes. Then Lucifer kissed him again, and Sam moaned, melted into his lips unashamed of how damn needy his laps and licks at Lucifer's mouth seemed. The bonds on his ankles vanished, and a firm hand guided him over onto his back. Oh fuck, this position made Sam’s entrance feel so open, so ready for Lucifer to thoroughly fuck him into the next fucking century, he didn’t care.  
“Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Sam swayed his body slow on the bed, knowing full well just how much of a lustful, muscular, bronzed scene of sin he looked. His wings splayed out and gave hot little rattling flaps, and Sam bit a languid lip as he looked back to Lucifer with heavy-lidded eyes. His breath hitched and his cock jumped at the sight. Oh shit. Those huge white wings had raised up into an electric arc and vibrated in an innate response to his own. The sound and the tilt of them shuddered down to Sam’s basic coding and his skin trembled with anticipation at the voracious, huge display. Ohh fuck. He’d thought Dean was over his head with Castiel as a mate. Now Sam was in the shadow of two, massive wings of an aroused archangel, about to be fucked out of his brains. It was safe enough to say that he hadn’t seen this one coming.  
Sam gave a little, unintentional moan as Lucifer’s eyes seared over him, the archangel’s mouth half-open as breath huffed out hot and full of desire. Sam’s eyes dropped down to that now-naked cock, slick and red, ready to take him and he arched his back up, offered himself to the Devil.  
“Oh, I’m gonna do better than that.”

Before Sam even had time to process what that could even mean, Lucifer pushed him back so they were both fully on the bed and Sam gave an indulgent gasp as that forked tongue lapped up the inside of his thighs. His hips jerked and Sam’s Grace flooded the lower half of his body so that every muscle trembled, and his eyes rolled back as he clutched at that blonde hair.  
“Oh, Lucifer, ungh – _fuck!_ ” Sam’s whole body lifted off the bed as Lucifer’s skilled tongue flicked over his pulsing ring of muscle, but before his ass hit the duvet again three fingers buried themselves inside him, right to the knuckle. The taller angel screamed and bucked at the suddenness, the unexpected burst of Lucifer’s Grace inside him. His essence seared with pleasure, his splayed legs shook on either side of Lucifer and his head tossed back without control.  
“Oh f-f-ahh!” Sam cried in disbelief as Lucifer dragged him up into a half-sitting position with that damn leash and took his throbbing cock into his mouth. Everything blanked white for a moment as his Grace tried to keep up – Lucifer was inside him, but also around him in a sheet of electric bliss. His wings beat the air as he clawed his nails into Lucifer’s hair and back and fucked himself between the sensations. Sam couldn’t control himself; his Grace was attacked on every side, filled up with mind-shattering bliss from the inside and squeezed tight by the power of archangel Grace from the outside. Sam could hardly get a breath as his whole body lit up white, Lucifer’s too as the King of Hell cried around his cock. Those great feathers rattled and crackled with pure power, sounds that should have frightened Sam to death, but it just shattered along the wavelengths like a frequency aphrodisiac.  
In a blind moment of insanity, Sam reached up and rubbed those energy-shrouded feathers with his own. It was like he'd been touched by God. This was what he imagined that would feel like. Electric, hot, a swell of power that consumed everything he was. He didn't know for a moment whether he'd come, or died, or lost himself as he clung on to the Devil. Then a bolt of ravenous archangel Grace brought him back, burst through the inside and around the outside of his own essence as Lucifer’s throat spasmed around his dick. White hot esctasy swarmed out to every limb, but at that moment, right before he pitched into the first shudder of orgasm, Lucifer lifted his head and pulled out. No. No! Before Sam even realized what he was doing, he’d thrown one of the most powerful beings in existence onto his back, the position of ultimate submission, and straddled him.  
“Stay the hell down!” Sam snarled at Lucifer’s shocked expression, wrapped a hand around his mate’s cock, and pushed it into his own body.

  
Lucifer’s head still spun from what had just happened, and fuck did it take a lot to get him thrown for a loop. He’d never lain on his back, submitted like this, for _anyone_ in his entire life, and now Sam had just done what even Michael had failed to do, but fuck, it was worth it.  
Sam’s tanned, muscular body with those taught nipples and cut hip-bones stretched up above him as the younger angel quivered and shook around Lucifer’s cock, around his Grace. Those grey-dappled wings fanned out in a shameless display, and Sam’s head was flung back, face a picture of unrestrained ecstasy as he sank his body onto Lucifer’s cock with strong, slow rolls.  
Lucifer had heard the vibrations of other angels’ propositioning feathers, but Sam’s, oh fuck, Sam’s drove him out of his mind. The wild instinct had him push up into Sam before he could even assess his position, and a string of indulgent, rhythmic moans burst out of the young angel’s throat as he fucked himself on Lucifer’s momentum. _Shit!_  
A quiver of electric excitement rippled through Lucifer’s wings as they found themselves utterly exposed; the traitorous bastards spread out even further beneath him as an invitation to his lover’s touch. Lucifer gave a throaty groan as his Grace spilled into the tight constrict of Sam again, but then the younger angel bent over and dug his fingers right into the tiny, soft feathers near the base of his wing.  
“Sam!” He squeezed his eyes shut as they lit up from the sensation that rippled all the way into his Grace and burst into the both of them. Yeah, he could throw Sam off, he could bind his wrists, he could do anything he liked, but this was new and _fuck_ this young creature had him more wild than anything in his life. 

Lucifer moaned in this dizzy desperation, latched one hand over Sam’s hip-bone as the other curled across his muscular back, and thrust up just as the other angel lowered his slender hips. Sam tensed and shook and gave a throaty groan by his ear as they found a rhythm of intense friction between their Graces; then those hot lips sucked his jaw with the fever they both burned with as the younger angel's hands plunged deeper into Lucifer’s feathers. The Devil threw his head back and to his chagrin gave a high, stuttered yell and jerked beneath his lover as Sam’s wings massaged into his feathers too. Oh, ohh _fuck!_ It was as though Lucifer was a piece of metal between two lightning-bolts; electric pleasure shocked through him from both sides as he thrust up into the hot bind of Sam in the middle. They were both beyond anything Lucifer had experienced before; he could barely control himself or his wings, he couldn’t control Sam, and instead of wanting to delay the orgasm for maximum pleasure, he wanted it _now_.  
“Oh Lucifer, unnnh L-Lucifer!” Sam moaned loud in his ear and the younger angel began to shake like a leaf as he still somehow kept the pace slow; his hips trembled in the archangel’s frantic grip, his hot breath came in huge gasps by the Devil's neck and Lucifer could feel echoes of the pulses of pleasure that slammed through Sam’s wings. Lucifer’s Grace boiled and boiled, built and built until he couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe with just how explosive it felt. He _needed_ this.

With one hand, Lucifer caught that gorgeous hair and dragged Sam down into a desperate kiss, and with the other he yanked those pretty hips down _hard_. Their Graces shattered into each other and Sam screamed against his lips, but Lucifer lapped it up, sucked the other angel’s tongue as he pumped with slow, brutal flicks of his hips up into Sam. Their Graces tangled so close that both angels seemed less of a pair and more of a single entity of bliss, glowing with it in each other’s arms. Then Sam’s fingers, probably by accident, massaged into that wicked spot in Lucifer’s wing and his whole, ancient being gave a deep convulsion. _Oh fuck._  
The Devil gave a wild gasp, but it was caught by Sam’s desperate kisses; Sam was all over him as he moaned into the archangel’s mouth and sucked his bottom lip in the frantic waves of their oncoming climax.  
Lucifer gave in.  
In Heaven he’d had to worry about ripping everything apart with his vast power, but Hell was made for him, to contain him, to withstand him. The Devil clawed Sam against his skin and fucked up into that tight, hot body and Grace without any kind of restraint, like he’d never had the freedom to do before with other less durable partners. Deep groans punched up through his chest, and Lucifer’s eyes rolled as Sam took it, took it deep, rough, wild and hard while the young angel garbled ‘yes’ and ‘Lucifer’ over and over. Sam’s eager Grace pulled him in, squeezed him, rutted against him with such hot, ecstatic friction, and it was too much. The pressure in Lucifer’s essence hitched another notch, then burst. White spurted out his eyes and his singing throat opened up into the feral noise of an archangel driven by pleasure beyond control. Lucifer felt every moment as he writhed and writhed, blind in ecstasy so powerful it was impossible to feel anything else.  
Which was probably good, because otherwise what came next would have been beyond excruciating. 

Through the hot waves, Lucifer didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. His Grace ripped itself in two, and a half burst up his throat. It slammed into the half of Sam’s Grace which had done the exact same thing and a shockwave of light and power burst throughout Hell, so powerful that chunks of ancient stone cracked off the ceiling and walls. Sam was thrown back onto his haunches like a ragdoll, still in the throes of orgasm, but somehow had remained conscious this time. A sick wave of panic slammed into Lucifer’s sleepy bliss as he searched himself. Half his Grace was gone. _Half his Grace was gone._ No, no, no, no, no! His eyes slid to Sam. Had this angel done this on purpose? Weakened him, so that he could sell him out to Michael? Deep down, he tossed away the thought; he’d have known if that’d been Sam’s intention with the level of intimacy their Graces shared. Lucifer dropped his head back onto the duvet, every option, every reason, every explanation for this on a frantic race through his vast, ancient mind. But it was all interrupted by a happy chirp beside him. The Devil turned to find himself looking at his own shock reflected back at him from the ice blue eyes of a baby angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cues the Oh Shit meme song* Well. That happened. And that's how baby angels are made! About questions: feel free to ask, but some things will be cleared up in future chapters, so if you ask something and I don’t want to spoil it I’ll just respond with ‘no spoilers!’ ;) But as always, you guys have been amazing, so thank you from the bottom of my smutty heart ;P Leave a comment and so kudos if you like (I can’t believe this fic is almost a 100 kudos, that’s so awesome!), and I look forward to hearing what you guys think! .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ଘ( ᐛ ) ଓ+..｡*ﾟ+


	15. Courage and Memory

Castiel could feel Dean’s grief before he even touched down back in Bobbicus’ space.  
“Dean…”  
“He’s gone, Cas. He just…” The younger angel’s voice hitched and he drew a hand over his mouth, eyes on the ground.  
“Dammit, Sam.” Bobbicus growled and clenched his fist on a workbench. “He’s the only one who could’ve proved all this Lucifer stuff.”  
“Do…” Dean took a steadying breath, and all Castiel wanted to do was kiss the sadness away. But the second he stepped out of these wards… “Do you think he’s really _mated_ like me n’ Cas with Lucifer or just…”  
Dean trailed off and shook his head. “I dunno, seduced?”  
Bobbicus harrumphed and picked a splinter out of the wood. “Seduced? Sam? It’d be easier to seduce a wall. That angel was more into his books than I am, and that’s sayin’ something.”  
“Then again, this is Lucifer.” Castiel put in and sighed. He didn’t know what would be the better outcome. If Sam was bonded to Lucifer and any angel in Heaven found out, Sam would be tortured at best to get to the Devil. If he had just been seduced, then he was the worst kind of fallen angel, and it was Castiel’s duty to hunt him down and, well, kill him if he didn’t renounce His Dark Majesty. If Lucifer hadn’t killed him already.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, and Castiel could feel in his Grace that his mate didn’t want to cry, but was on the brink. He wanted to run his hands down those soft tawny feather, kiss Dean’s neck and tell him everything was ok, everything would be alright. But with a civil war raging in Heaven, with Lucifer on the loose, with a price on Castiel’s head and Sam either dead or fallen, everything was far from ok.  
“Wait a minute, how’d Charlie give evidence about you?” Bobbicus looked up and frowned. “An’ what was it?”  
“She wrote a full confession with memory footage and left it at the Council Chamber of Heaven.” An anonymous informant had passed Castiel the news; Charlie had hacked Michael’s space twice now, even though the second time was not on purpose and with the help of one of the most powerful beings in existence. She would be next on the chopping block after him. “I was told it showed me clearly with her, and no matter how many angels in my garrison vouch that I was at the Battle Simulation all the time, Raphael’s troops will not take their word for it, and neither will Michael.”  
Dean seemed to have something on his mind. Those pretty green eyes flicked between Castiel and Bobbicus for a second, and Castiel’s Grace hummed in pleasure at their attention. Not now, damn it.  
“Dean, what is it?” Castiel grated and cocked his head.  
“I dunno if it’s anything, but last time I talked to Charlie, she mentioned memory problems. Like some parts of her memory were fuzzy or something. I don’t know if it might be anything to do with Lucifer…” Dean sighed with frustration, but Castiel snapped to attention. Angels didn’t get memory problems unless they were rare cases or tortured.  
“Dean, you should have mentioned this before.” Castiel straightened. They had to act now. This was a hope, the only small lead they had and they had to take it quickly. “Summon her now.”  
“What – “  
“Dean, do it.” Castiel turned gentle eyes on his mate and a tingle of heat buzzed through his wings at the way the light fell on that perfect face. Dean met his eyes, then nodded.  
“C’mon Bobby, let’s get the ingredients.”

It didn’t take long for the pair of angels to assemble the necessary materials from Bobbicus’ well-stocked supplies; as far as low profile safe houses went, Bobbicus’ was ideal – he was a little known angel in an inconspicuous part of Heaven with a great store of off-the-record artefacts, lore and ingredients. Castiel truly blessed the day he had met Dean in so many more ways than one.  
“Alright, here we go.” Dean tossed a flame into the powder and Bobbicus spoke the ritual words. Unless Charlie had trapped herself in Holy Fire like Castiel had, there was no sigil, no ward, no spell or code that could stop her being drawn here.

There was a few moments of silence, and then the auburn-winged angel appeared. Her eyes were wild, face drawn and tired, and she backed away from Dean and Bobbicus the second she touched down. Charlie’s eyes fell on him and she stumbled in her fear.  
“Castiel. Dean.” She swallowed and nodded at Bobbicus too, but her eyes never left Castiel.  
“Hey Charlie…it’s me, it Dean, your friend remember? We ain’t gonna hurt you.” Dean held up his hands, face a picture of honesty.  
“He tricked me into hacking Michael’s space!” Charlie looked between Dean and Castiel and her wings gave a little tremble of anger or fear. “It’s my fault Raphael’s dead, because you stole Michael’s archangel blade and killed Raphael with it!”  
“Charlie, that wasn’t Cas.” Dean held open his palms and moved a little closer to the coding angel.  
“Lucifer walks free.” Castiel let his gaze rest on her and squared his shoulders. “He tricked you and has sent Heaven into a civil war. He relied on your evidence and the tension between myself and Raphael to create it.”  
“ _Lucifer??_ ” Charlie blanched and looked about as though the Serpent might materialize in the room just from the use of his name. “How…no…it can’t be! He’s in The Cage!”  
“About that.” Dean sighed and managed to put a hand on Charlie’s tense shoulder. “Y’know your memory problems?”  
Charlie didn’t answer but her eyes were as wide as an owl’s.  
“We think Lucifer might have something to do with that too, Charlie.” Dean seemed to realize something and his voice went hoarse. Every atom in Castiel’s Grace begged him to pull the tawny-winged angel into an embrace, to give him pleasure enough to take the tension from his shoulders and wings. But instead, the black haired angel shifted the sensation out of his feathers and tried to ignore that heat inside him.  
“Wait, when you first met me, you said that The Cage could technically be hacked.” Dean’s eyes were wide as he took in Charlie. “Charlie, you gotta remember. Did you…”  
“Bring her here.”

Dean may not be able to search the mind of an angel with efficiency, but Castiel knew how.  
“The Cage was made by _God_ Dean!” Charlie looked between the pair of them as both Dean and Bobbicus steered her forwards. “Even if I knew where to start, it would take millions of years!”  
“We just need to make sure.” Castiel motioned for Dean or Bobbicus to allow her across the flames of the Holy Fire. Bobbicus pushed a crate over part of the ring and Charlie set her shoulders.  
“Alright. But this is crazy, y’hear?” She shook her head and climbed into Castiel’s space. As soon as she was through, Dean pulled back the box, and the fire leapt up again.

Castiel considered the young angel in front of him. Her mouth was set in a determined line, but he could sense fear around her like an aura.  
“I will make this as painless as I can.” Castiel grated and put his fingers up to her temples. If Lucifer hadn’t used her, there would be nothing to fear. But if he had, it seemed the archangel had wiped her memories and replaced them with false ones. There would be traces left, echoes, and from those, it might be possible to both prove Castiel’s innocence and stop the bloodbath of the Heavenly kinslaying.

At first he found recent memories; the sight of himself asking her to hack Raphael’s space on a bet, a conversation with Dean about Sam, Sam beside him, neck free of love bites, as they watched an Earth film. He dove further; he sat beside the fallen angel who was Charlie’s mother and talked over coffee about a relationship – there. A little glitch, a little thread in the memory that any angel below Castiel’s rank would never have noticed. The Marshal of Heaven stood up from the café table of the memory and dug his fingers into the blur, until the piece peeled away like wallpaper in his hand. Some part of him registered Charlie’s noise of pain, felt her fingers dig into his shoulders, but he couldn’t stop now. Castiel eased open the hole in the memory until there was a space large enough for him to step through. Blackness opened up before him, but something on the ground glinted red. A fragment. A shard of whatever this creation of Charlie’s mother had covered. Castiel stooped and the thing tingled as he picked it up. It wasn’t much - although he hadn’t expected Lucifer to leave anything more behind – but he could work with it. So the black winged angel tugged one edge outward, stretched and expanded the shard, fed it with as much Grace as he dared. He didn’t just expand its dimensions in space, but also time; from this piece, with enough care, he might be able to build events on both sides of whatever this moment, this fragment Lucifer had left ,held.

Castiel had no idea how long he teased it out for, but eventually it reached a size and temporal length that might be adequate. The Marshal of Heaven took a deep breath, tried to steady Charlie’s Grace with the strength of his own, then dove into the memory. 

He fell. Castiel tumbled through black, red and burnt yellow, and when he next opened his eyes, he found himself at a coding desk that floated in space between ancient chains. In front of him was the object he had only heard of, only guessed at the appearance of; Lucifer’s Cage. It hung like a the grisly metal body of a spider in the web of its supports. There were no bars, no windows, no gaps, and its size surprised Castiel; it didn’t look large enough to contain an archangel. To his left hovered the angels he recognized as Josephus and Xanthia. Xanthia had Charlie’s mother by the hair as she cried in fear over the abyss of the darkest pit of Hell. Castiel’s cheeks were wet with tears. Beside him, four other coding angels worked, angels he recognized from high up in Michael’s coding tier.  
“Now we’ve got all the time in the world.” Joesphus smirked, and guilt gripped Castiel’s chest as the energy field around The Cage’s space crackled with white light to reveal a horrid scar he knew he’d put on the piebald angel’s Grace. “See, even if we didn’t freeze time, one month in Hell is eight years to everyone else. And I wonder how much your dear mother will enjoy all this time, hmm, Charlie?”  
“Leave her alone!” Castiel found himself crying. “I’ll do my best, I’ll try, but – “  
“Oh you’d better.” Josephus smirked. “Because every minute you waste is every minute Anna spends with her skin being peeled off, with her bones being torn out, with her flesh roasting over the infernal blaze. Take her to The Pit, Xanthia.”  
“No!” Castiel screamed and tried to fly out of the chair towards them, but the chains of angel-binding manacles and a binding collar chinked as they stretched to their meagre length.

Josephus swooped over in a hush of feathers and rested a gentle hand on the back of the chair Castiel was chained to.  
“Now you’d better get to work, hadn’t you? Tarinas and Lesfael will get you up to speed.”  
The coding angel closest to Castiel smiled without warmth, and his panel lit up. He couldn’t let his mother be tortured for eternity. He couldn’t. It didn’t matter if he lived or died – he would probably die when the task was completed anyway. But his mother’s soul had to be taken on a demon contract, and they’d shown him the paperwork. When Lucifer was free, his mother would be too. Castiel swallowed his fear and shame at what he was about to do, wiped the tears from his cheeks and studied the lines of code in front of him. Tackle it like any other coding system, ok Castiel? It seemed as though there had been more angels working on the project, but this code was more infinite, violent, complex and dangerous than Michael’s space. It seemed it had required the voluntary gift of angel Grace to unlock some components. But every code could be broken, and he was the best in Heaven. He could do this and save his mother, if it was the last thing he ever did.  
And so it began.

Castiel fell into a cycle of analysis, experimentation, and the small joy when a coding chain was broken as he found the right power flux that corresponded with the energy signatures released by one of the six hundred and sixty six seals. Then there was the descent through pain as the power in the code melted his outer body around his Grace, but the two warrior angels always flitted in and healed them before it became unbearable. And so the cycle went on.

He had no idea how long it took, only that he never stopped working. Sometimes, Josephus or Xanthia would bring in his mother, who begged in a bloody heap for them to stop, to kill her, to let her be at peace. To his shame, it worked all too well; every moment the thought of his mother was at the fore of his mind, and he poured that love into each piece of his coding. As he did so, the lines broke faster. It tried to amend itself by sucking in two of the other angels’ Grace, but Josephus and Xanthia killed them before it could absorb the energy. But Castiel kept his eyes on his task and never stopped. His fingers flew faster than ever, driven by hope: the goal was in sight….. then he yelled in frustration; the final lock would only respond to the energy signature produced by the power of God. But Josephus brought just forward an Archaeologist angel, bound like Castiel was, who bore a simple wooden box. Even from here, he could tell the object inside pulsed gold power. Somehow, somehow they’d found the impossible.  
Xanthia conjured a cloth and picked up the ram’s horn within, careful not to touch it.  
“Do it.” The broad angel growled, and Castiel set his shoulders. He’d come this far. His mother wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. He took the Horn of Joshua, pulled the coding lines from the screen and slotted it into the space.

All three remaining coding boards exploded in unnatural gold light. In front of them, a white line seared in the dead centre of The Cage and it creaked open like the jaw of some metallic monster. A light too bright to look at rose from its maw, and Castiel had to cover his eyes to stop himself from being disintegrated. When he looked back, fear and awe trembled through his Grace; Lucifer stood before them on one of the chains connected to The Cage, his huge wings stretched out to a size that threw all who were before him into shadow. Behind him, his prison didn’t close but stayed open, like a Venus Fly Trap awaiting its next meal. The Devil seemed to just stand still for a moment, eyes closed as he absorbed all the information his semi-omnipresence provided him with, and then he turned to the angels before him.  
“My faithful.” Lucifer opened his eyes, but Castiel didn’t dare look at them. He bowed his head and tried to control his breath as he realized the gravity of what he’d just done.  
“Josephus and Xanthia. Your loyalty shall be rewarded. I will help grant you the vengeance you seek.” Lucifer’s voice seemed far too kind and comforting for such an evil being, and Castiel couldn’t stop the rivets of tears that dripped off his cheeks. He’d released Lucifer. He’d doomed both Heaven and Earth because he couldn’t bear to see his mother hurt. Well at least the archangel would probably obliterate him. It was what he deserved.  
“Tarinas and Lesfael. My spies since the last Holy War. You have carried out my instructions better than I had ever hoped. You shall be rewarded most highly.” There was a smile in Lucifer’s voice and Charlie heard the other two coding angels drop to their knees. “I take it Palean and Vikoras did not make it?”  
“They gave their lives to open the Cage, My Lord.” Lesfael breathed, all worship and awe.  
“A shame.” Lucifer sighed, an ancient kind of calm sadness in his voice. “And you.”  
Castiel took a breath, but didn’t feel the heat of Lucifer’s gaze upon him. No, the Devil had turned to the Archaeology angel Josephus had captured.  
  
There was a chink of chains, and Castiel felt his own collar and shackles fall loose.  
Lucifer continued. “You have done me a great service, Trynastas, by finding an artefact that contained the power of God. Join me and I shall make you great among the Archaeologists of Heaven.”  
“Snake!” Trynastas spat, even though Castiel could feel their fear from here. “You are all that is evil in this world, and I will _never_ join you.”  
Lucifer sighed, and Castiel glanced up for a moment. The Devil’s expression was one of concern rather than anger.  
“I’m giving you a choice here, my sibling. I’m truly sorry for the way you have been treated, but I can’t let you go to warn Heaven of my coming. I will promise to give you all the honours you deserve. You will want for nothing in my service. I do not want to kill you. We are family after all.” Lucifer sounded so reasonable that it shocked Castiel for a second. The Devil didn’t seem to be the flaming beacon of wrath, hatred and malevolence that everyone made him out to be.  
“All I want from you is a quick death, you traitor. You never will be family to any angel.” Trynastas’s wings shook, and Lucifer’s eyes went cold.  
“As you wish.” 

One second the angel was present, the next he was a wisp of smoke. Castiel suppressed a whimper and turned his gaze back toward the blackness beneath him.  
“Now Charlie.” Lucifer’s attention burned his skin, and Castiel didn’t dare move. “Your mother is free, and she will remember nothing of her time here. You are a very talented angel, and I would be honoured to have you in my ranks.”  
Castiel broke out of his frozen fear, only to shake his head. If the only redemption he could get was an honourable death, then he would take it. He felt the throb of Lucifer’s power as the archangel drew closer.  
“I still need you, Charlie. You and your skills are invaluable.” Lucifer’s voice was closer now, and Castiel could hear the buzz of those mighty white wings, but he just shook his head over Lucifer’s words, not even daring to stop in case he was persuaded.  
A hand on the side of his face made Castiel jump, and on instinct, he lifted his head. For a split second he met ice blue eyes older than time, and then the world went white.

“Cas? Cas!”  
The world jolted as someone shook him. The ground was beneath Castiel’s right side while one of Dean’s hands gripped his left shoulder and the other pressed against the battle shield of his wings. A hot jolt of electricity lanced through his feathers and the older angel muffled his moan in his elbow.  
“Cas? Charlie was screaming and then you both passed out…”  
“Lucifer used Charlie to open The Cage with spies in Michael’s coding tiers.” Castiel sat up, and to the disappointment of his Grace, Dean’s hand, which had been stopping his wings from touching the Holy Fire, let off. “It’s all there.”  
A sob brought his attention to the third angel in the Holy Fire – Charlie was curled into the foetal position. Her eyes stared at nothing, and tears tracked down her face, and the memory of her emotions curled in Castiel’s gut. But this was war, a war that would tear Heaven apart and let Lucifer destroy Humanity. He didn’t have time to be subjective.  
“Charlie, we must present this information to Michael.” Castiel knew his tone was emotionless and harsh, but there was nothing to be done.  
“Are you crazy?” Bobbicus griped from outside the fire. “Michael’ll turn her into goofer dust!”  
“We can’t – “  
“It’s ok.” Charlie interrupted him in a weak voice. “It’s better than I deserve.”  
She cleared the tears off her face as Dean helped her to her feet.  
“Charlie…”  
“No, Dean.” She didn’t look up, just at the ground. “This one’s on me. All I ask is that before you pass on the information… you tear out my Grace and cast me to Earth. I deserve worse than death. So I choose a mortal life, if you will allow me the punishment.”  
Charlie gave a small smile and Castiel nodded. “Of course. And I shall see to it that your true mother births you.”

Charlie gave a sob, but Dean looked between them as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  
“You can’t!” His wings raised in distress and fixed Charlie with his pretty green gaze. “There has to be another way – “  
“When Michael knows Charlie has the potential to aide in opening The Cage, he will destroy her. He will not take chances.” Castiel set his jaw. If he didn’t know Charlie, that would be his first choice of action; kill her to prevent future disasters. But if he made her human and branded her with angel wards, she would be safe. Even if Lucifer’s demons found her, she wouldn’t have the capacity or knowledge anymore to attempt anything else in Heaven or Hell.  
“This is insane!” Dean protested and Castiel could feel the echo of the other angel’s anxiety in his Grace like curdled milk. That was one of the many beautiful things about Dean – he wanted to save everybody, no matter how hard it might be.  
“Well, it seems like we live in insane times.” Bobbicus harrumphed, although there was sad acceptance in his old eyes. The grizzled angel moved to push the crate back over the Holy Fire. “It’s the best option in my opinion.”  
Dean just turned back to Charlie, eyes misted over with grief. He didn’t say anything, just pulled the thinner angel into a tight embrace.  
“I’ll watch over you, Charlie. We all will.” He finally released her, and a wave of his sadness washed over Castiel.  
“That is, if we survive the confrontation with Michael.” Castiel grimaced, but a plan spun like wool into thread in his mind. Even in times like these, there were options, and Castiel hadn’t been made a Marshal of Heaven for nothing.  
“Yeah, about that.” Bobbicus growled. “How in all hell are we gonna sit him down for a cosy chat? Last time I checked, he wasn’t in the mood for tea and biscuits.”  
“Well we won’t be luring him with tea and biscuits.” Castiel set his jaw and looked back up to his friends. “Since only archangels can summon archangels, we will be using me.”

He then slid his angel blade from his sleeve and turned to Charlie. “Ready?”  
The auburn-winged angel swallowed, looked to Dean then nodded. She balled fingers that shook into fists and her back straightened. “Ready.”  
“Dean, after I have removed her Grace, I entrust her remaining essence to you as I cannot leave this ring.” Castiel looked over to his mate and tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed the tear that slipped down Dean’s cheek. Later, if they survived, he would sing to Dean, and he could sob it all out in Castiel’s arms. “You must brand the interior of her mortal form with this angelic sigil.”  
He conjured a scroll with the Enochian ward on it, and his mate took it with an odd kind of calm.  
“Of…of course.” Dean set his shoulders and nodded.  
“Now, I would prefer you did not witness this.” Castiel was the one of the very few angels beneath the archangels qualified to cast an angel from Heaven, and even with his experience, it disturbed him to the core each time. There was something about the sight of an angel having everything that made them a celestial being ripped from them, torn away and mangled into a shell with no soul; that came to them when they were reborn, and Castiel knew even the archangels didn’t know how new human souls were created. The tawny-winged angel seemed a little frozen.  
“Dean…”  
His mate walked like a man in a daze behind him, and Castiel spread his wings as far as the Holy Fire would allow to shield him from the sight. He couldn’t shield Dean from Charlie’s screams, though, and knew it would haunt his mate and Bobbicus until the end of time.

***

“You sure about this?” Dean flew back in from the space they’d prepared, green eyes full of sharp grief and concern, and Castiel held his mate’s gaze with a sigh. Dean had lost two loved ones today, and if things went wrong, the young angel may lose Castiel too. True, Charlie wasn’t lost forever; as soon as Anna found a human mate and their union was consummated, she would live again; but that was only if their plan succeeded and Lucifer didn’t slaughter humankind. The anxiety in the younger angel’s Grace burned in him as well, but Castiel managed a small smile over the flames. There had been a time when a reckless, foolhardy Dean had trapped him in Holy Fire. That seemed eons ago, although it had only been a year, and now they might speak their final words together over the same barrier. 

The Marshal of Heaven had his wings stretched and ready for the near-impossible manoeuvre he was about to perform. Only angels trained to the highest degree in Aerial Acrobatics would even have a chance at this, and Castiel counted himself lucky that he’d taken pride in the art of flight to further his warrior training. The older angel noticed his mate’s eyes return to his wings again and again, and a smirk replaced his smile as heat crashed from his pinions, out through his chest and down his legs. Hmm, right now was not the time for a distracting erection.  
“Dean…” He warned in a warm tone, and Dean looked like a child-angel who’d been caught chewing their feathers.  
“Sorry Cas, it’s just…” The younger angel’s voice was so saturated in need that Castiel was glad of the Holy Fire – without it, he’d be on Dean in a second and in him before he could sing Hallelujah.  
“When we get out of this, you can do what you like to me.” The black-winged angel knew his voice had dropped low and sultry, knew that he’d never given an offer like that before, and knew Dean was as hard as an archangel’s wing-shield right now. The younger angel swallowed, and Castiel could feel desire burn every trace of anxiety out of his Grace.  
“Ok, I’m making sure you survive.” Dean pointed at him, and then Bobbicus piped up over the wavelengths.  
_There’s a civil war goin’ on out here while you two are slobberin’ over each other. C’mon ya idjits, I’m getting wrinkles out here._  
Castiel sighed and shook the tingles out his wings. “You had better go, Dean. I need to focus.”  
The tawny-winged angel nodded, his eyes sad, but they left goodbyes unspoken. Castiel knew that if he was destroyed, Dean might not choose to survive, and the thought burned the kind of energy he needed into his essence. 

The Marshal of Heaven was left in the silence of the wards as Dean doused the Holy Fire and soared away. Movement and awareness seemed to slow as Castiel focussed inward and connected with his wings on such an intimate level that it would take a thought of a thought to command them.  
And then he flew.

Castiel snapped into the prepared space so fast that he could hear the pop of atoms as he disturbed them. As soon as he breached the membrane of the area, he wrenched his wings tight and launched himself back into the warded space as the fiery wrath of one of the most powerful archangels in existence who had every sense trained especially for his signal smote every life form within the space to dust. Thankfully, Michael wasn’t chaotic and unpredictable like Gabriel, nor did he have the calm, assured patience of Lucifer. Castiel had predicted his reaction to be similar to Raphael and, thank all his intuition, he was right. Now everything could go wrong. Holy Oil couldn’t be smote out of existence, but if Michael didn’t touch down… The Marshal of Heaven waited for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a matter of seconds, and then…  
_We got him, Cas._ Dean’s voice let the breath Castiel had been holding whoosh out of him, and the black-winged angel soared back into the space without hesitation.

Michael burned bright white with holy wrath inside three circles of flame, while both Dean’s Academy regiments and Castiel’s force held off his guard in what could only be described as a suicidal defence. But they had been told everything Castiel had discovered and those loyal soldiers believed they didn’t just fight for the safety of their commanders now; they fought to foil the plan of the Deceiver, the Fallen One, and it was with them that the hopes of Heaven and Earth rested.  
**CASTIEL**  
Michael’s voice was neither heard by the ear or carried by wavelength, but shattered in the Grace of every angel in the space. Dean shielded Bobbicus behind his wings as the lesser angel cried out in pain.  
“Michael, you will listen to me!” Castiel yelled over the King of Heaven’s fury, but even with the three layers of Holy Fire in place, his Grace burned as he looked in Michael’s white-lit eyes.  
**I WILL LISTEN TO NO WORDS OF MY KINSLAYER**  
The archangel roared, overtaken by anger, and it seemed he had the usual angel trait of reverting to biblical language when he got angry. But the King of Heaven had to listen. Castiel’s friends were dying just for these few words. So the Marshal drew himself up to his full height, spread his wings, pathetic in comparison to Michael’s white feathers that blazed with blue fire, and called up every ounce of strength in his Grace. A flood of power washed through him, and Castiel realized that it wasn’t only his essence that resounded through him; Dean’s Grace sent pulses of energy along their connection and the Marshal of Heaven looked back up at his king with eyes that blazed.  
_YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!_ Castiel roared at a volume that shook the space, pushed the power inside him behind his memories, Charlie’s memories, and slammed them against Michael’s consciousness. Agony crackled through him as even the slight brush of the archangel’s ferocious energy hurled Castiel backwards across the space as though he’d been shocked by a million volts. He heard Dean’s cry as he ploughed a trough into the white dust that had once been grass, but he’d done it. Michael had seen even just the smallest moment, and perhaps now…

The Heavens spun as Dean’s warm touch found him. A shudder of sick, hot pain wracked through Castiel and he clawed his mate’s shoulders as his wings smouldered, lower feathers charred to the quill. He wouldn’t be able to fly for years unless he received specialist Healing, but that didn’t seem relevant now. Unless Michael saw reason, they would all be dead in the amount of time it took for three rings of Holy Fire to buckle under the strength of Heaven’s King. Which was minutes.  
“Cas, Cas, come on…” Dean’s face spun, and the older angel felt both Dean and Bobbicus’ arms loop under his wings to help him to his feet. It took Castiel a moment to realize Michael had fallen silent. The archangel was frozen, feathers still outstretched in fury as though his physical appearance was present, but his mind was elsewhere. The silence was only broken by a dull _thwump_ as the inner ring of Holy Fire burned out.  
“Lucifer.” Michael’s voice was barely a whisper, and his glazed eyes cleared. “Why must you be so vengeful?”  
A wash of relief passed over Castiel, so strong that it suppressed the sharp pain in his wings. Then, it seemed, Michael recovered from his shock, and the next words he spoke reverberated through Heaven like a calm bell.  
_Cease your war, my brothers and sisters, for Castiel did not kill Raphael. Lucifer is freed and framed him. Let us not serve his designs._  
“Now where is the angel who released him?” Michael’s eyes swept the space and probably Heaven, but even he would not find Charlie.  
“Gone.” Castiel managed out, and Dean’s hands lit up white as he tried to numb the agony with little success. “She is gone.”  
The dark-haired angel hissed and clung on to his supports as his feathers burned and thrummed a deep, horrid ache down through his Grace. The King of Heaven didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but he could look if he wanted to; Lucifer could look if he wanted to. The wards would hold. 

Several angels Castiel recognized as Michael’s personal guard flapped into the space, battered and bloody – it seemed Balthazar and his warriors had done a fine job at defence, although he didn’t know yet at what cost.  
_Balthazar?_ Castiel sent a tentative call down his friend’s wavelength, unsure of what he would do if the question fell into the void of a dead angel.  
_All my pieces are in one, you nutcase._ The familiar snark rushed through Castiel in a tidal wave of relief. _Although maybe next year we can make it the year where we all try not to die horribly._  
A small smile picked up on the Marshal’s face. _I’ll try, Balthazar._  
“Highness.” The guards bowed and kept their eyes away from their King as Castiel dissolved the Holy Fire. “How may we serve you?”  
The archangel closed his wings and eyes and took a deep breath of ozone-tainted air from his own smiting. Then a flicker of confusion crossed his features.  
“Prepare the space to summon Lucifer.” Michael’s tone sounded as though he himself couldn’t believe the words. Every angel looked at each other before the guards seemed to remember they had been ordered by His Royal Holiness and scrambled into action.  
“Are you crazy?” Dean snarled, and Castiel gripped his shoulder a little harder to help him remember his place; he didn’t want them to get this far just to have Dean obliterated by an archangel with a delicate temper balance. Michael considered Castiel’s mate until those green eyes dropped.  
“Do not question me. I felt out for his presence and it is weakened.” Michael’s eyes narrowed and both Dean and Castiel glanced at each other in confusion. “In his normal condition, Lucifer would be able to resist summons or at least hide himself from me, but it seems something has befallen him. Or it may be a trap, so I suggest you leave here.”

A flood of light washed over Castiel and he just about collapsed in relief as the archangel healed his wings.  
“Thank you my King, but Lucifer targeted me personally. If I can serve against him one more time, I would very much like to take that chance.” Castiel knew Dean would want to stay for information on Sam, and took the opportunity to give the tawny-winged angel an excuse.  
“If Cas stays, I stay.” Dean planted himself like a very attractive tree, that Castiel was so going to climb if they survived, beside him. Michael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  
“And somebody’s gotta keep an eye on these foolhardy idjits.” Bobbicus grizzled and crossed his arms in resignation. Castiel frowned slightly at being called a ‘foolhardy idjit’ in front of his commanding officer, but he supposed Bobbicus had not had a very calming day.  
“Very well.” Michael rolled his shoulders and conjured an Archaic Enochian sigil in the centre of the Holy Oil his guards had arranged. “Ready the garrison of Heaven and prepare yourselves and them for the coming of Lucifer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be arrested for serial cliff-hanging offenses. Anyhoodlydoodle the plot must go on! The 'Oh no' tag is coming in to play, and how I've deprived you of Samifer baby answers is testament to how trash I am. On that note, a few of you were worried about Lucifer and Sam's Grace, and yes, it does get replenished but how long it takes is different for every angel couple. Thank you guys so much for reading my story, and if you want to leave a comment or some kudos, that'd make my day ✲ﾟ｡.(✿╹◡╹)ﾉ☆.｡₀:*ﾟ✲ﾟ*:₀｡  
> Stay awesome my homies!


	16. This World Has Only One Sweet Moment Set Aside For Us

“Sam.” Lucifer breathed as the younger angel moaned and gasped and collapsed back on top of him, still in the throes of orgasm. That awful, uncontrollable heat had gone, just like half of his Grace, but the Devil did not dare tear his eyes away from the little creature that now curled up on the bed beside them and snuggled into its own stark white wings. An archangel. It was a baby archangel.  
“Sam!” Lucifer growled and shook his lover. He was lost for ideas. Sex with angels had never produced a baby before, and for once in his life the primordial being was lost. Without his full Grace, he’d have to bury himself so deep underground that even Michael wouldn’t be able to sense him, but perhaps that would work, perhaps his demons wouldn’t notice his weakness, perhaps they could still translate the angel tablet and close Heaven… Maybe Michael and the Heavenly host would be too caught up in civil war to even _consider_ him...  
One thought cut through his panic, and it seemed shock had stopped Lucifer from absorbing it until now. He had an angelic child. No, _they_ had a child. He and Sam. It wasn’t some demonic spawn or mindless Hell-beast, or a mutation of essence he’d twisted to his own designs, like he’d sired in the past. It was a beautiful little baby archangel.

Despite everything, a warm kind of delight burst up through the Devil and Lucifer reached a hand over to stroke down one tiny white arm that seemed to pulse with the power of their combined Graces. His fingers appeared so huge and almost unclean beside its purity. The baby made a little, bird-like trill which filled what was left of Lucifer’s Grace with warmth and the harsh contrast of something violent; some strange, deep instinct that gripped him in such an utter, hard iron vice that he was sure if anyone but Sam tried to even come near their child, that he would smite them into dust.  
“Lucif – “ The almond-eyed angel broke off as he saw the mound of fluffy white feathers and the pudgy, bright baby that lay on the bed. “Oh.”  
Sam’s voice was hushed with something like awe, and he tugged the collar and leash off his neck. _“Oh.”_

They lay in silence for a moment, both transfixed by the tiny living thing they had so suddenly brought into creation. The baby seemed to take them in too; not the squashed potato of a thing that human newborns were, but alert and intelligent-looking, with what Lucifer recognized as his own calculative eyes. Then it flopped onto its stomach and gave a tiny, wide-eyed gasp at the massive white archangel feathers still splayed above it on the bed, which earned a laugh from both of its fathers.  
“Did you know this could happen?” Lucifer tried to sound serious, but the baby reached forward to grasp at a primary like a kitten with string, so the Devil put his finger in place instead. He looked back at Sam’s eyes and saw a flash of guilt and shame. “It’s ok, I’m not angry.”  
“I…I knew it was _possible_ but Dean and Castiel never had a problem controlling their…oh. Oh no.” Sam ran a great big paw of a hand through his hair and rested his cheek on Lucifer’s chest as he watched their baby discover its own feathers and tug them down to look at them with a happy trill. “You killed Raphael.”  
Lucifer stiffened, but Sam’s tone harboured no resentment, so he replaced his deep-ingrained wariness with confusion. “Yes?”  
Sam tilted his head so his chin was supported rather than his cheek, and he met Lucifer’s eyes. “After Dean and Castiel kinda got together, I, well, had a real awkward talk with Castiel about angel mating rituals. It was kinda a self-set project, since no angel in Heaven thinks it’s very appropriate to delve into these kind of things.”  
  
Lucifer’s lip curled up into a smirk at both the thought of the stuck-up Marshal stammering out the sex talk and the fact that their baby just rolled sideways in an attempt to grab its own wing.  
“He said that – “ Sam put on a mock deep, gravelly voice, which just had Lucifer smiling even wider. “ – ‘angels produce offspring when the population is reduced, and even then they have a choice. But when the population is critical, it happens automatically.’”  
Sam dropped the tone and a gentle expression crossed his face as he reached a long arm out and gathered their baby back close to them with a hand about as large as it was. Little arms wrapped around Sam’s forearm and the child gave a little warble of glee as it slid along the covers. Some dignified, terrifying spawn of the Devil it was.  
“Before you killed Raphael, there were four archangels – the maximum population. The number went down to three, which is automatically critical population mass for any species, I guess. ” Sam shrugged. “Maybe there has to always be four archangels. But my Grace had been cut off from Heaven by the wards when we made love before, so it didn’t pick up on it until they were broken.”  
But Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to Sam in confusion. “You mean there were two archangels left when I killed Raphael. Gabriel is dead too.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows and turned his attention away from the baby which had gained a fascination with the grey-dappled angel’s thumb. “No, Lucifer, Gabriel is alive. Read my mind, I met him last year.”

A bubble of hope that Satan barely dared to believe rose up inside him as he sat upright, (which forced Sam to straddle his lap) caught that strong jaw with his palm and stared deep into those hazel eyes.

_“Tut tut tut, looks like you just hacked Michael.” The janitor stood behind them, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Naughty. I should really scream bloody murder.”_

Lucifer’s head buzzed with both the dizziness of missing Grace and the shock of the sight of his little brother in Sam’s memories. Gabriel…he’d killed Gabriel. Gabriel had stood against him in the Second Holy War, and it had felt like Michael’s betrayal all over again. In a moment of blind wrath, he’d killed the younger archangel; the one thing in all his ancient life he had regretted. The Devil flitted through Sam’s memories, eager to see proof of his brother alive and well.

 _Charlie held up her fingers, and they began to crumble. It seemed Michael’s failsafe had a backup protection._  
_“Ooh, that’ll sting.” The janitor bared his teeth in mock pain, then reached forward and tapped her nose. “Boop.”_  
_Charlie shone for a moment and when the glow faded, even her wing was healed._  
_“How did you do that?” Charlie gasped._  
_“Oh, y’know, being a janitor around here for as many years as I have, you learn a few things. And I love a lady who can pop Michael’s cherry.” The short angel waggled his eyebrows and passed Sam an envelope. “If Michael gets all pissy, give him that.”_

Lucifer gave a little, disbelieving huff of laughter and a fizz burned across his cheeks, but he didn’t let himself cry. Once every couple of million years was enough.

_There was a picture of the janitor, buck naked, ass bent over an Earth school desk, wearing a fake black moustache. The text read (in curly pink writing) ‘Beat this sweet ass to the Hell Gate if you can, big bro ;)'. Michael looked like he wanted to stab himself in the face from sheer being done with life._

Yup, if he’d had doubts before, they were all gone now. That was definitely Gabriel.  
“He’s alive.” Lucifer choked, then gave a full, breathy laugh and gathered Sam against him with glee. Their baby gave a happy chirp, still attached to Sam’s arm, at the delight of one of its fathers, and Lucifer smiled between the pair of them. His baby brother had somehow lived, somehow slipped past him, somehow was alright. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off him and replaced with the light that he’d begun to feel more and more often.  
“You glow when you’re happy.” Sam whispered in his ear. “It’s adorable.”  
“Shut up.” He smacked Sam’s bicep and tucked his head into the other angel’s neck, still not sure what to do with these emotions. A gentle hand curled into his hair, then coaxed his lips up into a kiss. A swell of relief passed through both of their diminished Graces as there was no burn, no irrepressible hunger. Sam’s lips melted against his like butter and they kissed, slow and deep with all the time in the world. In that moment, Lucifer felt as though he didn’t have anything else, didn’t need anything else other than this little family. For once in his life, since the Creation of Mankind he had angels to _belong_ with, but he knew they could never be happy until the Heavenly Host was sealed away. He and Sam, and now their child would be hunted and warred against until Michael had his victory.

A prickle of ice crept into his belly as Sam sucked on his bottom lip. Unlike Gabriel, Lucifer had no regrets about Raphael’s death and he wouldn’t regret locking up Michael to watch the destruction of humanity. But for the moment, he just gathered Sam closer with strong arms, swept his tongue inside those brilliant white teeth and nuzzled down his lover’s – his mate’s – well-muscled neck.  
“Hey,” Sam laughed and caught his face. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this in front of – y’know. We do have eternal memories.”  
He gestured to the baby with a grin and it took in the expression for a moment, then grinned back with little pink gums. Both angels chuckled, and Sam sat back on his haunches as Lucifer reached for their child. The baby archangel’s warmth hummed through his hands, and it gave a low coo of wonder as it was lifted toward its fathers. A smile flooded all the way up to Lucifer’s eyes as he cradled the tiny creature between them, careful not to touch its wings as much as possible. The little thing glowed as its Grace recognized the two angels that had sired it, and the light inside Lucifer pulsed in reply.  
“Aww.” Sam’s grin was as bright as the sun, and he stroked a chubby cheek with his finger.  
“What should we call it?” Lucifer let Sam slide their baby out of his arms and ran his hands absently down the tall angel’s thighs. The grey-dappled angel kissed the little archangel’s cheek, and they both laughed in surprise as the thing trilled and kissed Sam’s nose.  
“I was thinking Sydney. Sid for short.” Sam grinned as its little hand reached up and batted at his long hair, and Lucifer threw his head back and laughed.  
“Yes, yes, of course.” He wheezed and laced his fingers with Sam’s. The demons had been forbad to come in here. Nobody could see him letting his image down except Sam, and he wanted Sam to see him as he was, all of him, without lies, deception or as the imposing, dark force that commanded hordes of demons. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”  
“Eternal memories, remember?” Sam beamed and booped Sydney on the nose. “Huh, little Sydney?”

The tiny archangel’s eyes lit up with white, and the Enochian letters that spelled out ‘Sydney’ burned gold in the air, then sank into the baby’s Grace. Michael would probably have an angelic conniption if he heard there was an almighty, holy archangel named ‘Sydney’, Sid for short, but if everything went to plan, Michael would never hear from Lucifer or Earth ever again.  
_Lucifer._ A small, unsure voice piped up in the Devil’s head, and he gave the most honest grin of his life as a little hand splayed on his bare chest. Sydney then turned content eyes to its other father and touched his chest too. _Samuel._  
For just a brief moment, the three of them seemed connected and perfect, and a kind of peace Lucifer hadn’t felt since before mankind had been created washed through them.  
And then he felt it. 

A tug in the pit of his stomach like his Grace had been caught on a fishing hook. Oh no. Lucifer’s eyes flew wide in panic as he felt Michael’s summons and didn’t have enough power to stop them.

 

“Lucifer, what is it?” Sam saw his mate’s eyes fly wide and a look of horror pass across that usually calm face.  
“Sam – “ Lucifer choked out and clutched at his stomach as his eyes pulsed white for a moment. “It’s Michael. He must have somehow sensed me and – agh – he’s summoning me. Usually I’d be able to stop it but – “  
A wash of fear crashed through Sam as Lucifer convulsed and made a harsh noise of pain. In his arms, Sydney made a little sound of distress and reached a tiny had down towards its father, as if trying to help. Sam climbed off Lucifer and placed their baby down on the bed.  
“Stay here.” Somehow he knew it had understood him, and it curled up on its front like a cat, ice blue eyes wide and fixed on Lucifer. Sam grabbed the archangel’s wrist as Lucifer shook from resisting the call. “Tell me what to do!”  
There were no spells, no lore, nothing he knew of to stop an archangel summoning and it made him feel so helpless that he wanted to cry.  
“Nothing. Not even Holy Fire can stop it now.” Lucifer managed out and a hand gripped into his hair. “Take Sydney out of Hell. I don’t want them to grow up with demons. Look after our child, Sam. Take the angel tablet. Translate it. It’ll protect you both from Michael.”  
A hot sear of pain made Sam cry out, and he realized Lucifer had just burned Archaic Enochian runes down the side of his temple.  
“That will make your signal dead.” Lucifer reached over with hands that shook and branded Sydney too. The yelp of their child pulsed distress through Sam’s Grace; if it hadn’t been Lucifer, Sam’s instinct would have driven him to rip the angel who hurt his child to pieces, with his wings and bare hands if necessary.  
“I’m _not_ going to lose you!” Sam yelled, and his voice broke with desperation. 

He scrabbled out along the connection they shared and held him, clutched that torn archangel Grace within the space as tears slid without warning over his cheeks. Sydney squealed in distress beside them, and Sam’s own split Grace screamed like it was being torn apart again, but this time without the numbing pleasure. It took him a moment to realize his Grace was actually ripping as Lucifer’s essence was dragged away from him.  
“Let me go, Sam!” Lucifer snarled and a massive wing swept up and knocked him sideways, over to where the angel tablet, the leger and Lucifer’s translation book still lay. His grip on his mate broke, and Sam cried out at the suddenness of it. “I will tell them you did this to my Grace and I killed you. You will have died a hero Sam.”  
Those ice blue eyes met him, and the archangel’s body suddenly stilled. “I love you.”  
“I – “ Sam gave a choked gasp as Lucifer vanished, but he didn’t have time to grieve. He could hardly hear, feel or see, but with limbs that seemed to work of their own accord, Sam gathered Sydney up into one arm in a numb kid of calm and the angel tablet with its accoutrements into the other. He conjured his clothes and focussed on that seemingly endless piece of Heavenly space where he’d taken Lucifer what seemed like eons ago. The space on the edge of Heaven and Time, forgotten even by the archangels where the stars were endless. That’s where they would have their home; their warded, hidden, booby-trapped home, but home nevertheless. 

A single, white archangel feather, knocked loose by Lucifer’s struggle rested on the bed, and Sam gathered it up too. It wasn’t a large, outer one, but about the size of his finger, so he conjured a cord and secured it around his neck in robotic shock. Then Sam spread his wings and vanished from Hell and from existence, as far as the Heavenly Host was concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ಥ﹏ಥ
> 
> Fuck me up fam.  
> Bye  
> *crawls into the trash*


	17. For You I'd Wait 'Til Kingdom Come

Dean covered his eyes as a burst of light so bright it white-washed the space exploded in the centre of the sigils and Holy Fire. Michael had spoken some Ancient mumbo-jumbo, and it’d taken longer than a usual angel-summoning, but hey, it was the Devil. Speaking of…  
The light faded, and there was Sam’s bunk-buddy Nick, although now he had no pretence; huge, if slightly ruffled, archangel wings stretched upwards from his back in an attempt to keep them away from the Holy Fire, and the _evil_ in his eyes was unquestionable. Even through the barriers, he burned with wrath, with such a vengeful anger and hatred even Michael took a step back. But the King of Heaven had been right – no matter how pissed off this douchebag was, even Dean could feel that he was nowhere near as strong as Michael, although still strong enough to burn through the wards in ten, maybe fifteen minutes.  
What nobody expected was for Lucifer to open his mouth and sing.

Temptation enveloped Dean like a hot cloak, temptation to do what he wanted because he wanted to. Why did he serve Heaven? What did he _really_ want, for himself rather than ‘the greater good’? Why did he get involved with stupid political bullshit, this stupid unfair hierarchy system that had let Raphael treat Cas like dirt when he’d earned every rank through _work_ rather than species?  
The intricate song, different to every angel who heard it, latched on to Cas’s image in his head. That’s what he wanted, what he really wanted – Cas, all of him, right now. Screw Heaven and their dumbass plans. Screw Lucifer and _his_ dumbass plans. Screw caring about anything other than what he wanted, and he wanted Cas’s ass _now._  
“Dean!” The black-winged angel’s protest was a half-hearted one, pretty much a moan, as Dean all but tackled him onto the ground. He could fly them away, but his Grace reared, flames fanned into an all-consuming fire by Lucifer’s song. He barely noticed Bobbicus shrug with a ‘screw this’ and wing out the space on a beeline to whiskey. He didn’t notice Michael’s guards stagger in confusion as the thought of free will suddenly barraged against their essences, as was the case with all of Heaven.  
He met Castiel’s lips with wild fervour, and the blue eyed angel snarled, threw him on his back and pressed him hard into the smited white dust of the place, eyes afire with Grace as they clawed, selfish and careless, into each other’s clothes.

Then another song, another instinct picked up in him; a call to serve Heaven, to honour God and all his designs, to remember their true purpose. Both elements warred inside him with such fury that he clutched at his head and screamed, right down to his Grace. It was as though he were being torn apart, and he could hear the rest of the Heavenly Host’s shrieks too, as Michael and Lucifer’s songs smashed against each other in waves of violent discord. On the edge of his senses, Dean heard the _twang_ of a bow and Lucifer’s voice sputtered, then choked out. He looked up from under Cas, who had collapsed on top of him, just in time to see Lucifer rip Michael’s arrow out of his throat. It hadn’t been made of angelic metal, so the Devil still lived, but it had stopped his song. Too late, it seemed, for some; Michael’s guards were gone, probably fallen into temptation, the sin of rebellion, along with who knew how many others. Or was it free will? Why shouldn’t they do what they wanted to do? Dean shoved the thoughts down and climbed up on to shaky feet after Cas. Not for the first time, he was glad of their mating instinct; who knew what the pair of them, already more freespoken angels than the rest, would have done if it hadn’t sent them into lust? Then again, Michael had turned to them with his mouth half open and wide, shocked eyes. Even through Lucifer’s wrath, the Devil had a knowing little smirk on his stupid, smarmy (although still very beautiful, Dean admitted with reluctance) face.  
“ _Castiel!_ ” Michael eyeballed his First in Command, and Dean almost laughed at the scandal in his voice. Lucifer snorted in the background and healed his throat.  
“Uh…my apologies, Your Highness.” Cas flicked a guilty little look back at Dean, and seemed to just go with the blatant deadpan technique. “I was…overcome. Lucifer is inappropriate.”  
The Devil and tutted. “Ooh, don’t blame me now Castiel, you hedonistic sinner, I just fanned the flames.”  
  
Michael looked between Lucifer and Castiel then seemed to remember he had his brother trapped in Holy Fire.  
“Anyway.” The King of Heaven pointed at Satan, who shot him an innocent little look. “I don’t want to kill you, brother. I have lost enough brothers now, what with Gabriel gone and Raphael dead. Do not make me kill you.”  
“Oh please.” Lucifer rolled his eyes and his eyes burned cold. “Spare me the pity talk and get on with whatever you’re gonna do to me.”  
Even the Devil seemed to know he was defeated, but the blatant admittance took Dean, and Michael it seemed, by surprise.  
“What happened to you?” The King of Heaven looked over his brother, and Lucifer sneered.  
“Some nasty little nerd called Sam – you met him last year I believe.” The Devil’s lip curled in disgust and Dean’s Grace curdled. “Performed some pesky Archaic Enochian ritual that tore my Grace. How’d he even learn our language anyway, brother? Getting sloppy on the laws up here?”  
“What the hell did you do to Sam, you bastard!” Dean didn’t even think, just tossed Castiel’s hand off his shoulder and strode right up to the fire.  
“Mmm, let’s just say Hell is painted a new shade of red, with splashes of Grace-blue mixed in. Very fetching.” That evil son-of-a-bitch smirked and Dean couldn’t breathe. He felt for Sam’s signal, Sam’s anything, but his brother was gone.  
_Sam? Sammy!!_ He yelled into an abyss of silence, and the nothingness hit him in the gut like a sucker-punch. Sam was dead. No. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be real. 

Then he heard Lucifer’s laugh, and his Grace boiled in anger. He’d kill this asshole. He’d rip his frickin’ Grace out through his eye-sockets. But before he could try and smother the Holy Fire to get to the Devil, Cas’s firm hand gripped into the small feathers on the underside of his wing. Dean gave a cry of pain, as well as the zing of pleasure that came with the touch of his mate, and buckled. An arm in a tan sleeve caught him around the chest and dragged him back from the fire, but he clawed against it, kicked and bit that strong arm in fury. He needed to avenge Sam, he needed…  
Sammy was gone. His little brother, who he’d taught how to fly, who he’d teased and laughed with, and trusted beyond any angel to have his back when no-one else did was gone. An empty pit yawned in his stomach, and now Dean clung to that arm around him, clung to it as he willed himself not to tear up in front of Satan.  
“How touching.” The Devil simpered and put a hand up to his own cheek. “I might even shed a tear.”  
“Lucifer.” Michael’s tone threatened business, and good riddance too. Dean hoped he killed this sonofabitch for once and for all. “I think we both know what comes next.”  
Those cold eyes slid back to the other archangel, and Lucifer’s jaw tensed. “Yes I do. My big, righteous brother justifies beating me into submission and throws me into darkness and captivity. You should feel proud of yourself, Michael. Daddy’s little soldier to the tee.”  
“Why can’t you just let this go? Let all this anger and hatred go, Lucifer? Why can’t you come back to your family?” Michael’s face fell, and more of his guards appeared in the space behind him.  
“Let my freedom of mind go, Michael? Let our Father’s creation be destroyed by thoughtless little cockroaches who couldn’t care less about the beauty they pollute? Throw aside all hatred and be welcomed back into the loving, open arms of Heaven, all things forgotten?” Lucifer’s face fell into the shadow of his wings, and he looked as malicious and dark as all the stories had described. “I don’t think so, Michael. How about you see the light, brother? We are better than this, better than a host of eyes to watch over beings less powerful and less wise than we are. Destroy them and then, only then will you get the peace you and the rest of the Heavenly Host yearn for.”  
“I was made, we were made to look after humanity! It is our purpose!” Michael protested, but in a way almost looked less regal than his younger brother. But Dean didn’t care how many pleas and archangelic tears were shed. If Lucifer stepped out of that Holy Fire, he’d be dead.  
“ _You_ were made for that.” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed and he jabbed a finger at his brother. “And it looks like I was made to save us from their filth. So tell me, brother, how can you expect me to change my God-given nature when you cannot change yours?”  
Satan crossed his arms, his eyes chips of ice. Michael didn’t say anything for a long pause, and when he spoke his voice was soft and sad.  
“Very well.”

Michael’s guards sent nervous glances between one another. Well if they were gonna be pussies, Dean would fucking kick this bitch’s ass. Then the King of Heaven spoke an Archaic Enochian command, and the sigils beneath Lucifer’s feet lit up. Huge, engraved chains, like those that might hold a ship’s anchor, curled up and around the helpless Serpent and bound his body and wings in magic older than time. Before Lucifer could even drop to the ground with their weight, Michael dismissed the flames and the pair of archangels vanished. Good fucking riddance. Dean kinda wanted a bit more blood and guts on Lucifer’s end, but he could make do he supposed. The thought was a weak cover for the emptiness within him. The last words he’d said to Sam had been angry, and maybe this was all his fault. If he’d been there for Sam more, if he’d listened to his brother instead of arguing… A warm hand settled on his shoulder and the heat of the close proximity to Cas’s Grace picked him up, if just a little bit.  
“Come on Dean.” That deep voice was gentle and tired. “Let’s go home.”

 

Sam flinched as he sensed the iron jaws of The Cage snap shut around Lucifer. For a moment, he lurched in empty, choked horror as his mate’s presence seemed to vanish altogether. But a small part of Sam’s Grace still reached out into that void for the Devil, still knew his location, his feeling. It was like a lone candle in a black void of untamed night, but Sam held on to it, clutched it against his Grace and for the first time in his life wept tears of utter grief. His breath heaved through his large body, and sobs shook his shoulders so hard that his wings ached. A part of Sam wanted to scream at his helplessness until his throat burned into a ragged mockery of sound, rip the wooden cabin he’d created in this space into splinters, curl up and go so deep into himself that hundreds of years would pass without his noticing.  
_Samuel._ A timid little voice in his head tried, and a tiny, warm hand pressed against his leg. That’s right. He had Sydney, who’d apparently crawled out of their makeshift room to comfort him. Their baby didn’t deserve to see him like this, hell, _he_ should be the one comforting it. So Sam hugged Sydney against his chest and rustled his feathers in what hoped was a soothing kind of way.  
“It’s alright, Sid. It’s ok.” He kissed between those wide blue eyes, Lucifer’s blue eyes, and wiped away his own tears. “You and me. We’re going to be ok. Daddy’s here and that’s all that matters.”  
_Lucifer._ Sid didn’t seem to have a grasp on how to ask questions yet, just their names.  
“Lucifer had to go away, Sid. I’ll take you to see him soon. I promise.” He swallowed a sob, took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he fixed on the angel tablet. “We’ll see him again, I promise.”

***

At first, when the demons of Hell learned of an angelic intruder in Hell, they raised their weapons and ploughed toward the being screaming war. But this angel shone with a mysterious power, with eyes that glowed gold, and held a small, winged bundle in one arm. He didn’t fight them, yet he walked through their ranks with the ease of obscene power. They watched in fear as he moved through Hell, but not once did he speak, not even when their new leader Crowley offered him hospitality. He just wandered lower and lower into the furthest Pit of Hell, where even they didn’t dare to tread. The angel crossed the energy barrier into the space of the Cage without even slowing, and the demons murmured among themselves as to who he might be and how an angel, who seemed even more powerful than Lucifer, had come to be. 

Again he came, perhaps three times a week, and despite everything, despite _anything_ the demons threw at him – be it questions, offers of tea, Holy Fire grenades – the angel just shrouded himself in power and never ceased on his routine journey to the ever-changing location of the Pit. After months of this, one or two demons became bold, followed him and hovered outside the energy field of the Cage. The angel perched on a chain beside the Cage of their true King; his lips moved and a projection of a figure stood beside him. The bundle in his lap squirmed and fluttered and after a while, it became apparent that this angel had a child, a toddler, with him. Why would an angel this powerful bring a child into the darkest Pit of Hell? They had no answers, and the mysterious visitor would never give them any, so the demons held back and watched.

***

Hundreds of years later, Sam gripped Sid’s hand tight as they flew into Hell. They visited Lucifer three times a week, every week, but today only came around every few hundred years; the planets and planes only aligned this way on the rarest occasion, and, if the allusions on the angel tablet were correct, today was the day he’d been waiting for. 

At first, when he and Sydney had sat outside Lucifer’s Cage, they’d only heard a wavelength murmur, a whisper of a whisper lost in the electric crackle of the energy field around the Cage. But over time, the murmur had grown into a mutter, and the mutter into words as Lucifer’s Grace replenished, and on that day both Sam and Sid had smiled until they were giddy with relief. 

True, Sam was careful with Sid’s upbringing; he made sure they knew about both the plight of Heaven and the plight of Lucifer, and let the young archangel ruminate over it for themself. At first, Sid had been mad at Heaven and wanted Michael cast down, but over time, with Sam’s gentle persuasion, he’d come to see that sometimes there was no right answer. Although when it came to teaching Sid other things, Sam was glad that he shared the task with Lucifer; even if the image he projected for Sid’s benefit wasn’t the young archangel’s real father, the words and ideas were Lucifer’s. Together they taught their child to fight, to deceive, to be wary and patient, and the Devil taught them both to speak Archaic Enochian, even though he couldn’t see if their wing-language was correct. 

Whenever they were away from Hell, Sam gave Sid the full warrior upbringing he’d received, told his child about his brother Dean, who cooked pie, sang Earth songs and made jokes that sometimes (sometimes) were funny; about Castiel, the deadpan Marshal of Heaven who commanded armies, and loved Dean beyond anything; about the wise old angel Bobbicus who drank too much whiskey and always had a fond temper. Sam always tried to keep the sadness out of his voice, but knew Sid could feel it. Sometimes the archangel begged to see them, but all he could provide were projected memories. He longed to see them, wondered if Castiel and Dean had given in yet and had children of their own, wondered if Kevin had finished at the Academy of Lore, wondered if Charlie and her mother had made it to Heaven; it had been a shock to learn of her mortality, but then again, Lucifer’s song had caused many to fall. The power of the angel tablet gave him the presence to know anything he wished about his friends and family, but he couldn’t, he didn’t dare look in case it ached more than he could bear.  
Maybe one day they would go back, but Sid wasn’t old enough to look after themselves and he couldn’t put their child in danger when he still hadn’t finished translating the angel tablet in full. 

Sometimes they had arguments about freedom – Sam expected nothing less from Lucifer’s child – and once or twice they fell out over where Sid was allowed to go. But although the power the angel tablet provided Sam over the years was even greater than that of an archangel (the semi-omnipresence got a bit of taking used to) he never used it to do bad or good, or to control his child, but simply protected them both with it, no matter how angry either of them got. In time, Sid understood their need for secrecy – they were a good kid with a hard life, and Sam wished he could give the young archangel more than concealment, shadows and fear of death, simply because of who had fathered them. So instead, he took his child to Earth and showed the archangel both the highs and lows of humanity, and found it fair when his son seemed to share some of Lucifer’s disdain. 

As soon as Sid took their first flaps into the air, Lucifer had tips and archangel wing tricks to tell his child, and soon Sam could almost feel his mate’s proud smirk as Sid flitted around the outside of the Cage with the agility of a hummingbird. They had a strange life, tinged with the bittersweet ache of being so close yet unable to meet, but it was better than nothing.

 

Sam squared his shoulders and shielded Sid with wings armoured with the Power of God’s Word as they strode through Hell.  
“Oh, it’s our mysterious angel visitor!” Crowley kept trying to talk to them. Why, Sam wasn’t sure but, Sid knew better than to respond and Sam kept on his path; the space that contained Lucifer’s Cage moved to a new location every 24hrs, but Sam could always follow the tug deep in his Grace to where his mate resided.  
“Oh come on, I’m practically their uncle at this point!” Crowley protested, but his words, as usual, were ignored. Sid sent Sam a smile lit with laughter and Sam shot the young archangel a wink, then headed down a spiral stone staircase. The demons had become used to their presence now, and no longer stared in silence – they just let them pass. This time, Sam let Sid open the energy barrier with archangel power; Sam would need all of his strength today of all days. He took a deep breath and steadied his anticipation. This would work.

The dark-haired child glowed with excitement – a trait they seemed to have picked up from Lucifer – as the pair neared The Cage. It was odd; in their child, Sam could see little parts of them both, and every time he looked at Sid, he saw Lucifer’s eyes on the path they used to take over him, Lucifer’s wings spread beneath him, Lucifer’s adorable wheeze-laugh as he laughed at Sam’s quiet jokes. Sometimes it hurt, but most of the time Sid was a comfort in a world that had torn a piece out of Sam’s being and thrown it into a cold prison.  
He felt time near midnight, as the planets and planes converged, and he squeezed Sid’s hand.  
“It’s time.”  
Their wings whooshed through still air as the pair alighted near the Cage.  
_Are you ready, Lucifer?_ Sam pressed his hand and cheek against the cold surface of his mate’s prison.  
The voice that always filled him with warmth spoke to both of them. _More than anything._  
A bittersweet smile curved gentle across Sam’s face, and he pulled back from the cube of metal, Sydney in tow.  
“Together now.” Sam brought up his hands and summoned all the vast, incredible power of God’s Word. It danced within him, lit him up gold and filled him up with such presence, such knowledge and energy that for a moment it seemed he could see all, see every code of the world; he knew he’d surpassed being a mere angel long ago, and now was the time to take the godlike power he’d refrained from using and pour it into the binds on the Cage.  
Father and child spoke the Archaic Enochian commands together and gold and white-blue power, boosted by the alignments like a magnifying glass might boost the sun’s heat, smashed into the prison. A shockwave burst through Hell with such force that any demon on the same level of the Cage disintegrated. The place shook, and Sam could sense the screams and confused orders of the demons above him as the walls cracked and the ceilings split. 

A mighty screech of metal heralded the first chain to break. One by one the huge, engraved bonds that held the Cage in the centre of the space splintered, buckled and snapped under the fury of such power. The prison dropped like a stone down into the depths, but Sam had already conjured ground beneath the energy field for it to land on weeks before in preparation. He kept his power on the Cage, while Sydney wrenched open the barrier. The ancient prison tumbled through and landed with an almighty _clang_ that echoed through every chamber, cave, every part of Hell.  
“Dad! Lucifer!” Sydney’s cry came to him first, and Sam plunged after his child toward the bent, dented cube that lay on the ground. 

No. 

No, no, no. It hadn’t broken. It was still intact. A wash of rage and desperation crackled down Sam, and his eyes lit up gold with the sheer force of his hopes, his _need_ to see his mate again. He pushed Sydney back with unseen power and charged the prison.  
“No! No, you bastard, it should have worked!” Who he insulted – God, Metatron, himself – he had no idea. But Sam slammed himself against the metal, pummelled it with every ounce of power he had, clawed at it with broken nails and bruised wing-claws. He screamed with frustration, a raw, horrendous cry that shattered through all of Hell, and Sam ripped at the stupid, stupid, thing with everything he had. He barely felt the arms around his leg that tried to pull him back.  
“Dad, dad please!” Sydney cried, but it fell on deaf ears as he tore his skin and bruised his essence in an attempt to break this cursed prison open. He needed Lucifer. After all these years, he’d had so much hope, he didn’t care about humanity or Heaven or Earth or whatever. Sam _needed_ him…  
“Sam.” A voice he hadn’t heard aloud for hundreds of years stopped his frenzy dead. The grey-dappled angel whirled around, desperate to see Lucifer somehow out of the Cage with that pleased smirk and eyes only for him.  
“Sam, here.” Lucifer’s voice was gentle and resigned, but he could hear it out loud…  
  
Sam looked back at the Cage, and for the first time noticed a crack had split down one of its sides, about as wide as Sam's muscular arm. A hand, Lucifer’s hand curled out of the gap, and Sam sank to his knees and took it, held it against his cheek and finished the sentence he’d wanted to finish for all these years.  
“I love you.” Tears fell thick and fast down his cheeks, and his mate’s hand carded through his hair, hot with healing power as he fixed everything Sam had done to himself. The touch ached deep within him, made him want to sing for joy and sob until his throat was raw.  
“I know.” The warmth in the Devil’s voice was unmistakable, and despite himself, Sam felt laughter well up inside him.  
“You Star Wars piece of shit.” He grinned and cried and held on to that hand as if it were the only thing in this world.  
“Lucifer?” Sid approached them, eyes wide with wonder as he took in the pair.  
“Oh, look at you.” Lucifer’s voice was full of emotion. “You’ve grown so much…Come here.”  
Sydney fluttered up onto Sam’s lap, and even if Lucifer was still bound, they were together, and that was all that mattered.  
“I’ll get you out. I swear.” Sam mumbled into the side of the Cage. “Even if I have to carry the planes and planets into alignment myself, I will get you out.”  
“I can hear you. I can see you, I can touch you.” Lucifer murmured, and his hand slid out of Sydney’s and dropped on to Sam’s knee. “You have done so well. Don’t blame yourself, my love.”  
“Do you want me to close Heaven?” Sam choked out through tears. He didn’t care now that he had Lucifer. His friends and family would be safe sealed away, and he and Lucifer could be safe…  
  
“Where would you go, Sammy? Live here in Hell while I rule from the shadows of the Cage? No.” In the sliver of light that illuminated Lucifer’s face, those ice blue eyes he’d missed so much slid from him to their child. “Sid, you know how to conceal your true nature. You know how to fight and you know how to keep safe.”  
Lucifer’s fingers stroked along Sid’s cheek as their child nodded.  
“I think it’s time you met other angels. Even I grew up with the Heavenly Host, and you need that too, so long as you don’t fall for their self-righteousness. Besides…” Lucifer’s gaze turned to Sam’s tear-streaked face. “You miss them. I feel it like an ache in my Grace, Sam. And you now have enough power to stop even Michael if you wanted. It’s time.”  
“I won’t leave you.” He couldn’t. He couldn’t desert Lucifer and return to the life he’d once lived, because something would go wrong, something always would go wrong, and Sid would be in danger, something would happen… Sam curled his hand into Lucifer’s and clung on to the sensation of his mate’s skin like a parched human might guzzle water.  
“If we see Dad’s family, can we not see you again?” Sid’s eyes were wide with worry, and they put a hand next to the crack in The Cage.  
“Of course not, pet.” Lucifer’s voice was warm, and a long, white feather dipped out to curl about his child. “Until you can free me, Sam has enough power to conceal your visits here, and now The Cage is broken, I can visit both of you in illusions.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide with wonder. Oh…they could touch, they could talk, they could kiss and make love again, even if only in a dream. A bubble of warmth rose from deep inside him, like Sam’s essence could feel the piece of himself Lucifer always kept with him again, and his Grace tingled, giddy with even this small joy.  
Sid watched the white feathers with tears in those sharp blue eyes. “I remember…I remember your feathers above me. I remember they were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”  
“And you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Lucifer winked and shot Sid a warm smile.  
“Hey!” Sam protested and both he and Sid grinned as a dark chuckle came from within The Cage, although it was true. Their child had inherited Lucifer’s glow, the beauty that lit him up from the inside out, and Sam often wondered what Sid was the archangel of, if new archangels were assigned a purpose, that was.  
“Your beauty is a different kind, Sam.” Something glinted in Lucifer’s eye and that lascivious smirk crept across his lips. _And I’m beginning to wonder just how much of you can fit through this crack._  
A rush of disbelief and desire burned up Sam’s neck, and he flicked his best bedroom eyes up to his mate.  
_Oh, more than enough, I’m sure. When Sydney has somewhere to stay, I’m sure we’ll find out._ Sam grinned and ran his fingers down Lucifer’s white feathers. _And I bet my Grace feels amazing now._  
The Devil’s hand tightened around Sam’s in pleasure, and the taller angel had a feeling he was going to get some very good daydreams in the next day or so.  
“So what should we do now?” Sydney turned to him, and it was adorable how both Sid and Lucifer shone right now with happiness, lit up the dark Pit like stars in the void. Sam pulled himself out of the sensation of Lucifer’s feathers under his fingers.  
“Now we build a chamber for The Cage that Lucifer can rule from, have a good, long catch up and maybe tomorrow we can go and see Dean and the other angels I’ve told you about.” Sam beamed down at their child as warmth blossomed through his chest. They were together. Finally, after all these years, after all this time, he could touch Lucifer again, he could…  
  
Sam curved a grey-dappled wing around Sydney and moved his face up to the split in The Cage.  
“Come here.” He whispered; the crack was just wide enough to allow him to lean in a little, and fingers caught Sam’s cheek as he did so. Then Lucifer’s lips pushed against his, and Sam’s free hand bunched against The Cage surface in desperation to hold his mate against him. But this was enough for now, more than enough. He snaked his tongue through that hot, familiar mouth, sucked on the swell of Lucifer’s bottom lip, drank in his breath and skin and hummed with delight into the sensation he had only experienced in memories for hundreds of years. Lucifer nuzzled him with a sigh that shook, and tangled his fingers with Sam’s across a lower part of the split. They just breathed each other in for a long moment as another tear slid down the taller angel’s face.  
Sam could do this now. The touch and warmth eased the ache of his Grace, numbed the pain that even Sid couldn’t quite take away. Now the prospect of Lucifer’s freedom, even if they had to linger another hundred, thousand, or even million years, seemed just that much closer and the wait that much more easy to bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter my bros! This chapter legit made me cry, and I've only cried once ever reading a book, so good luck to all of you. Also, ages ago a lovely reader asked for the playlist that helped inspire this fic, so here it is!  
>   
> All you readers have been such an inspiration throughout this entire fic - thank you so much for engaging with me, because without you guys I probably would have abandoned this fic when it got too sad to write ( I had to take a week or so off this fic before I finished this chapter, cause helll) but I'm really glad i finished it. So thank you ^.^ You are all the best and amazing and I love you all! As always, if you like, leave a comment or kudos to tell me what you think! Stay awesome my homies!  
> +｡:.ﾟヽ(^∀^｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟﾟ+｡:.ﾟヽ(*^∀^)ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ
> 
> P.S there's gonna be an awesome surprise at the end of the next chapter. See if you can guess, hehe! ;)


	18. Epilogue

“Keep your disguise in place until I tell you, ok?” Despite his great power, nerves buzzed through Sam’s chest as they alighted in Bobbicus’ car yard. He didn’t want to give the grizzled angel such a fright that he chucked a Holy Oil Molotov at them (although Sam wasn’t sure whether that would even work on him now) so they’d walk a little way first.  
“Yes, dad. Of course.” Sid smiled up at him with hazel eyes rather than blue and oak-coloured wings rather than tell-tale archangel white. Every part of Sid that appeared similar to Lucifer had been smoothed out until Sam knew how his family would react. The little archangel seemed happy, but he could sense nerves in them too, so Sam took Sid’s hand and led the way through Bobbicus’ maze of cars. Why an angel had a space full of scrap metal, Sam had no clue, but then again, whatever made him feel at home.  
“Ok, Dean might get a bit emotional, Bobbicus is gruff but a huge soft bear on the inside, but it’s Castiel we have to be careful of.” Sam shot his child a worried glance, and that ancient, deep instinct to rip apart any danger to Sid lanced through his hyper-powered Grace. No, Sam, you don’t need to worry. These are friends. These are family. 

The familiar sight of Bobbicus’ ramshackle home sent a lump to Sam’s throat, and he tensed his jaw against tears. Hell no, he couldn’t cry before he even made it through the door!  
“Go invisible, sweetie and stay under my wings.” Sam whispered as he felt the presence of two angels on the roof of Bobbicus’ house. When they neared, Sam pulled his head back in confusion. The pair looked exactly like Castiel: fluffy black wings, a shock of black hair, and wide blue eyes, but they seemed younger than Sid and held hands as they swung their legs over the edge of the gutter. Sam could have shrouded himself from their vision, but if they were Dean’s sons, he had nothing to hide. So he made his way into their view, and their chatter snapped silent. There was a whoosh of black feathers and they vanished.

 

“ – ok Bobbicus, make sure Jeshuani doesn’t chew their wings or they’ll damage their feathers, and don’t let either of the twins into the basement.” Dean turned about and Bobbicus gave an exasperated snort.  
“C’mon Dean you leave your kids with me every time you’ve got a War Simulation. I can handle it!”  
Cas swept into the room, with their second youngest, Bonnie, in his arms. He’d probably sealed Jeshuani in their cradle just in case they got out and wore out their Grace by smiting Bobbicus’ spiders.  
“And if our daughter starts to fly, I want to know.” The black-winged angel stroked Bonnie’s hair and handed her over with reluctance.  
“Yeah, yeah.” Bobbicus rolled his eyes and took the angelic equivalent of a three-year-old from the Second Marshal of Heaven. Dean eyed him like a hawk, but the grizzled angel avoided Bonnie’s tawny wings with ease. “Now quit it, ya mother ducks. I helped raise you and Sam, so I can handle your four monsters.”  
“ _Without_ whiskey, I hope, Bobbicus.” Cas narrowed his eyes and Dean chuckled as Bobbicus gave an apologetic shrug.  
“They had to try it sometime.”  
“Everyone, Dad, Father, Uncle Bobbicus!” Dariel and Roberidas appeared in the sitting room, blue eyes wide, and Dean’s stomach gave a flip of concern.  
“What, what is it boys?” He strode over and crouched between the two troublemakers. If they’d been playing with Holy Oil again…  
“There’s a strange angel, Dad!” Dariel pointed outside. They’d taken to calling Dean ‘Dad’ as he was the fun one and Cas ‘Father’ as he could put the fear of God into them with a blue-eyed glare. Cas fell into a battle stance, and his wicked wings snapped to attention behind his back.  
“Go stand with Bobbicus, hm?” Dean shared a glance with Cas and slid his angel blade into his hand. Not many angels knew about Bobbicus’ space, and the ones that did never walked through the car yard to reach the house. Whoever this was, they must have hacked the security to get in, then marched straight up to the front door. Either they were stupid, powerful or Rufus being ‘an idjit’ again.

A knock on the door shattered the tense silence, and Dean prowled forward without a sound. Even if it was Rufus, with his kids here, he would take every precaution in the world.  
Dean opened the door a crack and then his world dropped out from beneath him. It couldn’t be real, it… The tall, achingly familiar angel that stood there with those stupid puppy-dog eyes couldn’t be him, it couldn’t be…  
Dean hauled this angel who looked like his dead brother through the door by the front of the shirt and slammed him up against the wall.  
“Who are you?” He snarled and pushed the edge of his blade against the imposter’s chest.  
“It’s me, Dean! It’s Sam.” Those brown eyes pleaded for diplomacy, just as they’d always done. It looked like Sam, but there were things that were different. A line of sigils had been branded into the side of his brother’s face (if this was his brother) and his eyes seemed old and calm, as though he’d aged beyond his years. There was something about this guy too, a presence, a power.  
“My brother is dead.” Dean growled and pushed the blade harder. He’d been inconsolable. Even Cas hadn’t been able to bring him up for years, and now here was some asshole with his brother’s face.  
“You pushed me off a rock shaped like a lion to try and teach me to fly.” The angel blurted out. “When I could take off properly, we had a huge bonfire out in the space under the stars and you snuck down to Earth, even though Dad told you not to, to get Earth marshmallows because they tasted better.”  
Dean swallowed and gritted his teeth. How could…nobody knew that. Nobody but…  
“Sam?” The name dropped from his lips, and breath gushed into his lungs. “Sammy, is that…how did you…?”  
  
Before Dean could do something embarrassing like cry, Sam knocked the angel blade out the way and pulled him into a tight hug.  
“I missed you so much, Dean!” Sam’s voice was thick beside his ear, and Dean embraced him back. “The last time we talked, we argued and…”  
“It’s ok, it’s fine, we’re all good.” Dean patted his brother’s shoulder blade and didn’t even try to stop the tear slide down his cheek. “I’ve got you little bro.”  
“I know, I’m good, I’m good.” Sam sniffed as they pulled apart, and was almost smacked into the wall as Bobbicus clapped him on the shoulder, then embraced him with a smile that brimmed.  
“Good to see you, boy. Hell, it’s better than that.”  
“Yes. It is good to see you indeed.” Cas offered a hand when Bobbicus peeled away, and Sam shook it. “But Lucifer said he destroyed you. I know that I was once killed by Lucifer but brought back by some miracle. Did the same fate befall you?”

Sam’s eyes dropped, then he rolled his shoulders and lifted his head back up. There was a hard gleam of determination in Sam’s eyes, and the aura of calm, quiet assurance somehow reminded Dean of the fallen archangel. “No. He lied to protect us.”  
Sam moved forward, and his wing shifted in a strange motion, as though he had something near it. Dean frowned and shot a bewildered glance to Cas, then back to his brother. Cas’s eyes had narrowed, but the Marshal of Heaven stayed silent.  
“You mean you. He lied for…you?” This didn’t make sense. Why would Lucifer lie and how would that protect Sam? His brother’s eyes slid to Cas, then that jaw tensed in the familiar motion that told Dean Sam was nervous. Then he glanced at a space near his wing.  
“Sydney, let them see you now.” Sam’s voice was soft, and he reached a hand down as a young angel materialized beside him. They must have been the angelic equivalent of ten or eleven with a ponytail of brown hair and hazel eyes, just like Sam’s. A kid? Sam had a kid? Dean opened and closed his mouth in shock.  
“All of you, sweetie.”  
The little angel looked up to its dad for reassurance and got a warm smile. What? Then Dean’s eyes flew wide as those oak-brown wing dissolved into white, and he found himself looking at Lucifer’s cold, pale eyes. What in all hell…  
Cas’s wings snapped open, and he knew his mate had just sent a wavelength message to their own children to stay back and not to move. Sam met their silence with his head held high.  
“This is Sydney, born of both me and Lucifer. Sid is archangel.” Sam’s grey wing curved around the child’s side, but Sydney didn’t seem phased by the death glare Cas fixed them with. In fact, the kid had the same calm, quiet, dangerous aura that he’d felt radiate off ‘Nick’ so long ago.  
“Lucifer told Michael that I was dead so that I could raise our child in peace and translate the angel tablet.” Sam’s eyes glowed gold and Dean’s stomach dropped. He’d translated it. Sam had translated the angel tablet, The Word of God Himself, and now he must have the power it promised. Cas swallowed beside him, eyes wide with rare fear. “I wield the full power of the Word of God, but I will only use it to defend myself and Sydney. We mean no harm to you or Heaven. I just wanted Sid to have more of a family.”

Sam sighed and looked down to him. The gold faded from his eyes and was replaced with a sadness  
too old for an angel so young. The warrior in Dean saw Heaven’s downfall; Lucifer’s child and the Devil’s mate who wielded even more power than Michael. But another side of him saw his dumbass little brother and a kid who couldn’t help who his dad was.  
“Sam, this child is the spawn of Satan and must be eradicated.” Cas growled, and tried to move, but Dean threw out an arm across his chest before Sam’s parental instincts turned his mate to dust.  
“Cas, it’s only a kid.” Dean sighed and Cas’s nostrils flared in righteous anger, but before they could have an angelic tiff, Bobbicus cut in.  
“Sam, you’re an idjit.” The grey-haired angel harrumphed and crossed his arms. “In fact, you’re the king of idjits. But you’re my boy, so you and Sydney are welcome in my house anytime, so long as you don’t bring daddy number two back up here.”  
“You’re like Dad said.” Sydney’s clear voice held power, like all archangels, and they took a step toward Bobbicus. Sam’s hand was dragged along a little, and the child looked up at him with wide eyes. “You seem all gruff and grumpy, but actually you’re just very kind.”  
A surprised, beardy smile pushed the grizzled angels cheeks up, and he stooped to Sydney’s height. “You got it kid. I ain’t anythin’ to be scared of.”  
Sydney still stuck close to the protection of Sam’s wing, but Bobbicus was rewarded with a slow, bright smile.  
“But if you’re not careful, he’ll fill you full of whiskey.” Dean chuckled and shot his brother a soft glance, which was met with silent thanks.  
“Child, have you met your other father?” Cas growled, still tense, and his wings still shielded their own children from both Sam and Sydney’s view.  
“No.” The young archangel sighed. “He wants to end humanity, so they locked him away. I understand.”  
“We haven’t seen Lucifer since Sydney came into being.” Sam squeezed his child’s hand. “But you understand why I had to leave.”

Dean nodded; it wasn’t Sam’s fault, not really. He of all angels should know how strong the mating instinct could be, and with an archangel…no wonder Sam’d had a kid in the first week or so compared with how long he and Cas had waited. Turned out that delaying it for as long as they had produced twins, but this was still a learning curb. And it was all overwhelmed by the fact that his brother was alive – Sam hadn’t died some awful death in the bowels of Hell.  
“I’m honestly just glad you’re back Sammy.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder, and sent Sam’s kid a warm look too. “I missed you more than anything.”  
_Dean, I am not leaving our children with the offspring of Lucifer._ Cas interrupted, and his eyes were still hard. _If Sam stays, I will take them to Balthazar until I can ensure their safety._  
_That might be best for now._ Even though the twins had returned covered in glitter, lipstick and Sharpe last time, it would be better than an agitated Cas, Dean thought, and watched his mate turn back towards their children.  
“Is he ok?” Sam’s eyebrows creased upwards.  
“He’ll come round.” Dean shrugged, but was a little glad that Cas had made the decision; when he knew Sydney a little better, then he might let the kid interact with the twins at least. So far, the young archangel seemed quiet, a little withdrawn, but Dean didn’t know whether the poor kid had ever met any other angels beside Sam, and now had a pissed-off Marshal of Heaven in their face. That’d make anyone withdrawn.  
“Between the two of you, it looks like you could repopulate Heaven all by yourselves.” Sam squinted for a moment. “What’s that, four kids?”  
Dean’s paternal instinct flared up in distress at the fact that Sam knew about Jeshuani too, but with the power of the angel tablet, he could probably see in like, twelve dimensions, never mind his brother’s offspring. So Dean pushed it aside, put his trust in both Sam and Cas and his own judgement.  
“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “First it was that twins, and after that we kinda learned not to put it off so much. And after the civil war and the angels that fell to Lucifer’s song, well, it just kept coming back.”

A warm smile spread over Sam’s face and the old familiarity of the expression ached in Dean’s Grace. Damn, it was just so…Sammy was ok. He was alright. Warmth welled inside him, and he could almost sense the hole Sam had left knit back over.  
“I thought Balthazar would be at the War Simulation too?” Sam frowned and squeezed Sydney’s hand. The little archangel seemed content just to take in the room and the presence of other angels, much better behaved than the twins, who got bored in seconds. How they were going to survive their eternal lives with that kind of attention span, Dean had no clue.  
“He’ll never say no to a day off.” Dean shrugged and hoped the silver-winged angel didn’t break out the vodka. “Now, sit down, the both of you. We’ve got one hell of a catch up to do.”

Sam leaned back into Bobbicus’ worn, familiar couch and sighed as the light of Heaven danced on his face. Sid had traipsed off with the grizzled angel to be shown the wonders of the lore book library in the next room, Dean had headed to the fridge to grab them beers, and Sam could even see Cas conducting the War Simulation while Balthazar showed their four kids how to turn people into frogs with a little too much enthusiasm.  
_Now that’s better._ Lucifer’s voice hummed in his head, and Sam just about burst with happiness at the fact that he could talk to his mate at any time, that Lucifer didn’t have to be alone when Sam wasn’t in Hell. _You don’t ache so much anymore._  
Sam sighed and played with the frayed covering he’d known since he was too young to fly. _You know that you always come first though. You and Sid. I’ve told Dean we still need to live in secrecy and not in the nearer spaces he’s offered us. I will never abandon you._  
He knew how, even though Lucifer never voiced any concerns or fears, that the archangel would be beyond distraught if Sam became distracted by his friends and family in Heaven and neglected him. The younger angel knew it was dangerous, but nothing short of God could stop him visiting Lucifer the usual amount, and he would keep by his promise till the bitter end if necessary.  
_Sometimes I think God feels guilty about how he made me, Sammy. So he gave me you to make up for it._ Even though Lucifer’s tone flirted, there was something so deep in those words that it filled Sam up with the warmth he’d missed. _And if I could go back and choose between supremacy over Heaven and Earth and you and Sydney, I would choose you all over again._  
_You romantic fuck._ Sam grinned, despite himself, and they were left with a warm silence. Even without his god-like power, Sam knew Lucifer was glowing like his namesake star right now in the dark bowels of Hell.  
_You know, our connection is so strong now, I can just about feel the warmth of the light on your skin._ Lucifer sighed, and Sam tilted his jaw into the heat even more.  
_Good. One day we’ll feel it together._ He slipped a hand under his shirt and ran the pad of his finger over Lucifer’s feather he’d worn for hundreds of years. _I promise._  
_One day. But for now, you enjoy yourself and so will I._ Lucifer smiled along his wavelength, and Sam swore he felt the ghost of lips brush his own. Then Dean strode in with beers and a grin, and Sam schooled his face into excusable contentment. This was the best he’d felt in hundreds of years and just for the moment, just for the moment, he allowed himself to relax into the sensation of now, rather than past or future, and enjoy the small victories of today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that is the end of the Angel Academy Saga! I really can't say a big enough thank you to all you readers who inspire me, who improve my work, who keep me going and make my day. You wouldn't believe how much a comment that probably takes, like 2 minutes can do all that, but it really does! <3  
> If you have any further questions on the world or the story, I'm always keen to answer, so ask away!
> 
> I believe in the future I will be writing a lot more Samifer (hopefully) so if you like my style and the ship, why not hit the user subscribe button and have a Samifer party.
> 
>  
> 
> **If you're feeling sad about this fic ending, as promised, here is your surprise. Click[*+:｡.｡here｡.｡:+*](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7643206/chapters/17401288) to enjoy.**
> 
>  
> 
> As always, tell me what you think and stay awesome my bros! (∿°○°)∿ *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿


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